


Shits and Giggles

by TJ_Dubs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, F/M, POV Hermione Granger, Pen Pals, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, idiots to lovers, obvious vs oblivious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 60,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TJ_Dubs/pseuds/TJ_Dubs
Summary: Harry Potter is terribly unobservant. During his 6th year at Hogwarts, he's obsessed with his Potions textbook and finding out what Draco Malfoy is up to.What trouble did Hermione manage to get into when Harry wasn't looking?*Most scenes involving Harry include dialog from The Half-Blood Prince*Obvi I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 159
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

“Alright Ginny, you can go first. Truth or Dare?” Hermione was sitting cross legged on the stiff rug on Ginny’s floor while Ginny was sprawled out on her bed with her feet in the air. It had been Hermione’s idea to play the game, and after explaining the fairly simple rules, Ginny was excited to play.

  
“I pick Truth,” Ginny quickly responded, as if she didn’t want to give herself time to doubt her choice.

  
Hermione had to think for a second. She had fully expected the younger Gryffindor to pick Dare and was looking forward to having her bang on Fleur’s door and run away. “Umm… who was the first person you kissed?”

  
“Ew I don’t want to know that about my sister, ask her a different question,” came Ron’s annoyed voice from the against the wall where he stood leaning.  
Originally, it had just been the two girls sitting in Ginny’s room, but after Hermione had explained that Truth or Dare worked better with more people, Ginny had been all too eager to go and fetch Ron from his room at the top of the stairs.

  
He had been hesitant to come and play with the two girls. Ginny could be persistent. He slowly slid down the wall to join Hermione on the rug.

  
“Don’t be such a baby Ron,” Ginny scolded him. “It was Michael Corner by the way. He wasn’t very good at it—” Ron made a gagging noise— “so I kind of feel bad for Cho since they’re together now. Okay, so I get to ask now?” Ginny looked toward Hermione who nodded. “Umm… Ron, Truth or Dare?”

  
“No way I’m picking Truth after that!” Ron rolled his eyes, “I guess Dare.”

  
Ginny smirked like she had been waiting her whole life for this moment. Hermione expected Ron was about to finally pay for some wrong that he had caused Ginny.  
“I dare you to put on your dress robes from the Yule Ball.”

  
“Really? That’s what you’re going with? Sorry to say that I won’t be able to complete this dare, I burned them after Fred and George bought me new ones.” Ron happily retorted. His response was met with boos from the two girls. “Do I have to do something else or do I get to ask someone now?”

  
“I say you have to do a new Dare.” Ginny replied, her eyes narrowing into slits. “I dare you to go into Fred and George’s room and bring back one of their products to use.”

  
“Pssh, easy. I’ll be back in a second.” Ron put his hands on his knees and pushed off the floor and crossed the room where he headed to the twins’ bedroom on the second floor. As soon as he was out the door the two girls began giggling.

  
Hermione leaned back on her arms while she sat with her legs crossed in front of her. She couldn’t help but imagine what horrors were awaiting Ron when he had to come back and use whatever it was that he found.

  
“He probably won’t pick anything that came out of their Skiving Snackboxes, so I imagine he’ll grab one of their props.” Ginny mused out loud.  
Knowing Ron, the boy would try to pick something that wouldn’t cause him too much harm. Moments later Ron came in with what appeared to be a wand in his hand.

  
“I hope you aren’t going to try and hex your way out of this,” Hermione said through her giggles. “You’re still only sixteen, you can’t use magic outside of school yet.”

  
“Thanks Hermione, I had forgotten all about that,” Ron scoffed. “No this is one of the trick wands they were working on. Remember they gave one to Bagman at the World Cup? You swish it and it turns into a rubber chicken or something.”

  
“I’d be careful with that,” Ginny warned. “They were working on more advanced versions before they moved out. You might not get a rubber chicken.”

  
Hermione watched Ginny’s eyes gleam in anticipation of what was about to happen. Ron looked down at the wand in his hand, regretting his decision for the first time. Not wanting to chicken out, Ron took a deep breath.

  
“I think I’ll be fine.”

  
He rotated his wrist with the toy wand in it. When he had completed the simple flick of his hand, his arm shot up to his head. The toy wand started hitting Ron across the face. He brought his other arm up to grab his wrist to keep the stick from pummeling his nose and cheeks. After struggling to contain his errant arm, Ron finally managed to drop the wand onto the rug beside Hermione where it continued to twitch for a few more seconds before lying still.

  
Ginny had been laughing so hard that she rolled off her bed and onto the floor. Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes and she laid all the way onto her back and covered her face with her hands to wipe them away. The only person who wasn’t howling with laughter was Ron.

  
“Oh, very funny!” He said as he rubbed at the red marks appearing across his jaw. “Let’s see how you like it then. Hermione, Truth or Dare?”

  
“Well now that I know what’s left over in the twins’ room. Truth.”

  
“Ugh, fine.” Ron had to think for a minute. “All I can come up with are lame ones, but I guess I want to know why you don’t do your hair like you did for the Yule Ball more often.”

  
Ginny rolled over and punched him in the arm, her laughter dying in the process. Ron grunted in response. Hermione paused before answering.  
“It’s just more trouble than it’s worth.” A stone formed in her stomach. She no longer felt like giggling anymore.

  
Ginny knew that Hermione hated when people brought up her appearance of that fateful evening. That was probably why the younger red head had hit her brother. Ron seemed to take the hint from his sister and didn’t push for more information. Hermione wanted to turn the attention back on someone else quickly.

  
“Ok back to you Ron, Truth or Dare?”

  
The night continued on with Hermione finally learning why Ron was so afraid of spiders, Ginny having to run upstairs to hug the ghoul that lived in the attic, Hermione having to take a swig from the bottle of Ogden’s that Mr. Weasley thought he kept hidden in the kitchen, and Hermione finally got to use her idea to make Ron knock of Fleur’s door and then runaway.

  
Eventually they called it a night and Ron and Hermione left Ginny’s room to retreat to their beds. Ron headed up the stairs to his room and Hermione retired to the bedroom that used to be Percy’s. She opened the door to her borrowed room and walked inside. She passed a mirror and examined her unruly hair.

  
_I guess I want to know why you don’t do your hair like you did for the Yule Ball more often._

  
Ron’s question bounced around in her head. Hermione had always been self-conscious about her looks: her buck teeth, her bushy hair, her plain figure. Up until fourth year, her teeth had always been what bothered her most about her appearance, but for once Malfoy had done her a favor with a hex and Madam Pomfrey had fixed them to a normal size for her. Thanks to that hex, she never had to endure explaining to her pure-blooded friends why she had a mouth full of metal wires twisting her teeth into place.

  
_Thanks Malfoy, now I don’t have to be the only brace-face in the magical world._

  
Now it was her hair. People always commented on her hair. They had seen her fix it up once so she could feel special at the Yule Ball, and now no one could understand why she didn’t style it all the time. Lavender and Parvati had badgered her ever since that she should put an effort in.

  
No one seemed to realize that Hermione did put in the effort, just not in the way they thought she should. She got out of bed every morning, she combed the tangles out of her mane, she brushed her teeth, and she would put on a clean set of clothes to start her day.

  
And every day it took so much out of her to look in the mirror, take a deep breath in and face the day.

  
It had only gotten harder since the night at the Ministry. Sure, she put on a brave face when she met with her friends, she had to. Hermione had to be the strong one, for Harry’s sake. He lost so much that night, a mentor, a friend, his godfather. Hermione could endure the nightmares she still had about being cursed in the Department of Mysteries if it meant she was still alive and could be there to help Harry, even if he didn’t want to talk about it.

  
Hermione gave a shallow nod to her reflection. The eyes staring back at her were maybe the only pair that truly understood what she was dealing with inside her head. She held her own gaze for a few more seconds and then turned with a sigh towards her borrowed bed.

  
Hermione sat on the edge of the mattress and looked at her watch, it was only half ten, she could read a chapter or two of the Muggle psychology book she got to help with Harry before she decided to nod off. Looking over the stack of books she brought with her to the Burrow, Hermione decided that maybe sleep would be the best for her tonight.

  
She quickly changed into her oversized t-shirt and flannel pajama pants and tucked herself beneath the covers. She hoped that tonight her dreams would just be her running through the halls of the Department of Mysteries, not the ones where she saw her friends being attacked by the Death Eaters. Her head met the pillow and she closed her eyes preparing for the nightmare she was to face.

  
Instead, when she drifted off, she was met with Quidditch pitch outside Hogwarts. She watched her friends soar high on their brooms. She saw Ron weave in and out of the three hoops, instead of waiting to deflect the Quaffle . Her eyes tracked across the field to see Ginny, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom practice the formations the Irish chasers had used at the World Cup. A crack sounded and Hermione found Fred and George volleying a Blugder back and forth between them like a suspended game of badminton.

  
Hermione knew that this didn’t make sense. She knew that Fred and George never got to be on the same team as Ginny. She knew that the Blugder should be rocketing around the pitch to attack one of the other players. She knew Luna and Neville weren’t on the Gryffindor team.

  
She didn’t care.

  
For once Hermione wasn’t having a dream where she would wake up gasping for breath and sweating. She could do with a little nonsense right now.

  
She relaxed into the stands she was sitting on and looked straight up to where she knew she would find him. Harry was laid all the way back on his broom like he was sunbathing at the beach, his arms crossed behind his head, the tiny golden Snitch darting around him.

  
The sight of Harry so relaxed eased the remaining tension Hermione felt in her sleep. Watching Harry lounge, even in her dreams, gave Hermione the strength to face the morning. Tomorrow would be okay.

  
She felt herself relaxing further into the stands, and in the real world, she relaxed into her pillow. The breeze from the three chasers passing by rustled her hair and brought the sweet smell of freshly cut grass with them. This was going to be a good night.

  
Or so she thought.

  
The changes to the peaceful day at Quidditch practice happened slowly. Hermione almost didn’t notice it. The first change was the twins. Fred and George dropped their beater clubs and zoomed off on their brooms.

  
“Where are you going?” Harry called after them, rising up from lounging on his broom handle.

  
The two didn’t respond but continued to fly away until they were gone from the horizon. Just like they had when the two of them left Hogwarts for good. Hermione looked around at her remaining friends: Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. The same group that she had travelled to the Ministry with. One by one, they started to descend to the ground on their brooms. They gathered in a circle in the middle of the pitch. Hermione left the stands to join them on the field.

  
When she had made her way to the center of the pitch, her friends were no longer there. In each of their places in the circle stood five creatures. Hermione had never seen creatures like these before, but she knew what they were. She had heard Harry describe them enough times to recognize them for what they were: Thestrals.

  
Her mind had conjured thin, bony horses with ebony, bat-like wings. She knew she shouldn’t be able to see them; she wasn’t in the room when Sirius died, but her subconscious didn’t care for simple matters of fact.

  
There were truths it needed to remind her of.

  
One of the Threstrals from the circle came forward. It spoke with Luna’s ethereal voice, “If you had come up with a better plan, none of that night would have happened.”

  
“Brightest witch of our age,” scoffed one of the beasts in Ginny’s voice. “If you were smarter, you would have known it was a trap.”

  
Neville’s soft voice came from behind the horse behind her. “If you hadn’t gotten yourself cursed, we would have escaped with the prophecy.” The Thestral with Neville’s voice knocked her knees out from under her, and she fell to the ground. Hermione didn’t bother to get back up; she knew they were right.

  
She knew they were right.

  
The circle of Thestrals closed in around her. Ron’s unusually dark voice found her next.

  
“It’s your fault Sirius is dead.”

  
Hermione curled herself into a ball. She could hear the voices of her friends repeating their terrible messages that she knew to be true. They were the same words that she had told herself when she woke up back at Hogwarts in the hospital ward and was told what had happened.

  
She felt a pair of hands grab her wrists and pull her up. Hermione didn’t resist and allowed her body to be drug onto her knees on the cold, hard ground. She lifted her head and met the stare of green eyes. Eyes that were not there to comfort her.

  
“You don’t belong in our world.” Harry spoke from his own body. These words cut her the deepest. Hermione knew he was right. This was why she always had to know the answers in class. Why she always had her homework done weeks in advance. Why she had her books read before September 1st came along. Why she studied so hard for her O.W.L.s.

  
It was because she didn’t belong.

  
She was trying to convince herself as much as everyone else. If she was the smartest, it meant she was supposed to be there. If she could answer all the questions, it meant that her magic was good enough. If she got enough O.W.L.s, then maybe they would let her stay another year. She knew she had to learn as much about magic as quickly as she could before they realized she was an imposter and they took it all away from her.

  
Hermione knew she was a fake, and now all her friends did too. She fell back against the dirt, her body unable to move. She wept, but none of her friends came to comfort her, their words still surrounding her like a fog. Hermione fell deeper and deeper into the fog and didn’t escape it until morning.

  
***

  
Hermione opened her eyes slowly when she was woken up by the sound of the Floo coming to life. It had been another restless night. She tried to call up the events of the nightmare, remembering bits of what her friends had told her.

  
She knew the words were not theirs, but her own. These were the things she thought about herself. Logically, she knew that what happened at the Ministry was not her fault, but her emotions wouldn’t let her hang onto that fact for very long.

  
She absently ran her thumb nail along her bottom lip, catching it on the dry skin. Hermione stopped only when she felt her thumb wet with blood. She shook her head to clear the last of the fog away. It was time to start her day.

  
Hermione liked to wake up when Bill and Mr. Weasley left for work. She liked to have time to complete her morning routine without the banging on the bathroom door that came from Ron or Ginny waiting to use the shared bathroom. She grabbed her toiletries case and headed across the hall.

  
After locking herself inside, she quickly got to work opening her case and setting her supplies on the counter. She unscrewed the lid on the jar of Muggle cold cream and scooped out enough to cover her fingers. Hermione rubbed her hands together and delicately spread the cream on her face and neck.

  
None of the other girls in the Gryffindor dorms used Muggle products, but Hermione liked the simplicity of it, and it’s the same product her mother uses. When she would run out of the product at school it gave her an excuse to write to her parents so they could send her a care package of supplies, as well as a few treats to share with her friends.

  
Hermione knew that her parents waited for her to write. Anxiously hoping for the owl that let them know she needed a few things from the Muggle world. It reminded them she was still their daughter who needed her parents, and Hermione never wanted them to forget that.

  
Even though the Grangers sometimes took advantage of that.

  
She let the cream sit on her face while she brushed her teeth. If her parents could see her, they would have been proud of her deft strokes and her commitment to flossing. When she had finished rising her mouth out, she grabbed her washcloth, wetted it, and began to remove the cold cream from her face. After she was done patting her face dry, it was time to start on her hair.

  
Hermione had long ago learned that bushing her hair made it frizz, but her hair was frizzy anyway, so it didn’t seem like too much of a loss. Plus, it felt wrong to do nothing with it. Brushing it gave her a feeling of control over something in her life. She reached behind her head and split her hair into two section, setting one half on either of her shoulders.

  
Starting on her left side, she grabbed her hair a few inches from the end of her curls and drug the brush through the tangled mess below her hand. When the brush no longer snagged, she let go of her fair and moved up to brush all the way down to the end. Further up she went until the knots had been removed. When the left side was finished, she repeated her actions on the right, dragging her fingers through her hair at the end to make sure she didn’t miss any hidden tangles.

  
When she had put all of her products back in her bag, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror to complete the last part of her morning routine. She met the eyes of her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She noticed that the bags under her eyes were more noticeable than usual, thanks to her night of tossing and turning. She smiled at her reflection, and even though it didn’t reach to her tired eyes it was still a comfort to see.

  
“I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I can do this.”

  
Hermione spoke the words to her reflection every morning. It had started when a small girl had almost been killed by a troll in a bathroom. That same girl needed them even more when she woke up in the hospital wing after being petrified by a Basilisk. The words sounded funny when that girl said them after she was almost kissed by Dementors by the lake.

  
A teenager had desperately clung to those words when her friend had come back with a dead body saying Voldemort had returned. Those words had pushed that young woman to start an army with her friends and had led her to the Department of Mysteries. Now, those simple words were going to be what carried her through this summer.

  
Hermione knew the power of words, after all, what was magic but words with power.

  
***

  
As Hermione left the bathroom, she heard light footsteps descending the stairs. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, because of course she would run into Fleur this morning. The part Veela came gliding down the stairs with her head held high.

_She probably wouldn’t even notice me standing here if I don’t say anything._

Fleur made eye contact with Hermione as she turned to head into the bathroom.

_No such luck today then._

  
“Ah, ‘Ermione, are you ‘eading in to ze bazroom to get ready?” the striking blonde asked, eyeing Hermione’s case.

  
“No, I just finished. All yours.” She quickly ducked away and made her way back to Percy’s old bedroom.

  
Hermione felt Fleur’s insinuation that she appeared to have just rolled out of bed, and not that she had just finished getting ready.

_The nerve of some people!_

Back inside her room she quickly changed out of her pajamas and into a pair of shorts and an appropriately sized t-shirt, then headed down to breakfast.

  
It was always amusing to Hermione to watch Ron try to act human before he had eaten. He stumbled down the stairs, not knowing how to control his long legs this early in the morning, still trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. He took a seat next to Ginny and across from Hermione and had to prop his head up on his fist to keep his head from drooping. Soon, Mrs. Weasley levitated plates of eggs, toast and sausage to the table and Ron perked up resembling a human once more as he tore into his plate.

  
As if finally noticing that there were other people in attendance at the table, Ron managed a “Fanks mum,” around the eggs in his mouth. Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes. They had both long ago grown accustom to Ron’s idea of “manners”.

  
“You three had better hurry up and finish breakfast, Harry arrived last night. He’s up in the twins’ room,” Mrs. Weasley informed them while sitting down to enjoy her breakfast. Hermione did not think it was possible, but Ron doubled the speed at which he was shoveling food into his mouth. Once his plate was clear he chugged his glass of pumpkin juice and took off taking the stairs two at a time.

  
“I’d better go after him, who knows what he’ll do to poor Harry.” Hermione got up from the table and followed Ron up the stairs, but at a much gentler pace. By the time she had reached the twins’ old room, Ron had ripped open the curtains and was accosting the still bleary-eyed Harry.

  
“Ron, don’t hit him!” Hermione scolded as she stood in the doorway and watched her two best friends reunite. It hadn’t been that long since they had seen each other getting off the Hogwarts Express back in London, but they both knew the horrors that awaited Harry back with his Muggle relations.

  
Ron made his usual inquiries as to how Harry had been treated and was decently pleased with Harry’s response.

  
“How’re you, Hermione?” Harry finally turned to address her as she crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed where he was still tucked under the covers.

  
“Oh, I’m fine.” Hermione replied as she searched his face. She was looking for any of the signs of stress she had come to associate with her own reflection. He seemed to be as okay as he claimed, but maybe he was just better than her at disguising it.

  
_Maybe a night with Dumbledore did him some good._

  
Harry filled the two in on his evening with their headmaster.

_Maybe he really just didn’t want to talk about losing Sirius._

She could respect that, for now. The two boys carried on talking about the new Professor Slughorn.

  
“He can’t be worse than Umbridge, can he?” Harry asked his two friends.

  
“I know someone who’s worse than Umbridge” Ginny said as she walked in rolling her eyes. Hermione could immediately tell who Ginny meant. She deftly crossed the room and joined Hermione on the edge of the bed. “Hi, Harry.”

  
“What’s up with you?” Ron asked. Hermione could tell he was already getting ready to defend the blonde’s reputation.

  
“It’s her! She’s driving me mad.” Ginny’s voice was dripping with exasperation.

  
“What’s she done now?” Hermione was calling to mind the condescending way Fleur had greeted her that morning.

  
“It’s the way she talks to me—you’d think I was about three!”

  
“I know, she’s so full of herself.” Hermione recalled interactions with Fleur from their time together during the Triwizard Tournament. The French woman never had anything nice to say about the special food the poor house elves at Hogwarts had made just for the visiting schools.

  
Suddenly, Hermione found herself on the floor, with Ginny crumpled next to her. The blanket they had been sitting on now covering Harry’s embarrassment as Fleur came bustling into the room carrying his breakfast on a tray. The part Veela began doting on Harry. Hermione tried her best, and failed, to tune out the annoying bragging.

  
_Oh, my seester is still in love with you ‘Arry. Did you know I only ‘ave to work part time? I’m practicing my Eenglish with my ‘andsome boyfriend. Oh, didn’t zey tell you we’re getting married?_ Hermione rolled her eyes and kept mocking the blonde in her head. _Oh, it’s so boring ‘ere staying wiz Bill’s family, I don’t want to stay wiz ze cheekens._

  
Hermione watched as Fleur twirled out of the room. There was arguing between Mrs. Weasley and her children about the blonde who has just exited the room, and Hermione didn’t have the mental fortitude to deal with it today.

  
She still managed to get a word or two in when the conversation drifted to Tonks. Hermione was comparing what the boys said about her with what she had read in her Muggle psychology book.

  
“It’s survivor’s guilt,” the pieces started to fit together in Hermione’s mind. Tonks had problems changing her appearance lately. It was obvious that she was severely depressed. It made sense to Hermione: Tonks blamed herself for Sirius’ death.

_Just like I do._

They continued talking when Ginny stormed out of the room being summoned by her mother. Hermione noticed she was sitting next to some boxes that were left by the twins. She was curious to see what Ron had passed over from the night before. There were more of the wands that had accosted Ron, a few stale canary creams, and a telescope.

  
It looked like the school issued telescopes, but smaller. Almost like a spyglass. She held onto it, at least she would have something to occupy her hands other than just fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt or picking at the spot on her bottom lip.

  
Conversation drifted to Ron’s brothers. Fred and George’s shop was doing well. Percy’s still fractured relationship with his parents was a cause of concern. Harry let it slip that Dumbledore wanted to give him private lessons during the term but had no idea what they were for. Hermione became more fidgety with the telescope when they began talking about that night at the Department of Mysteries.

  
_Harry doesn’t seem too upset that the prophecy was smashed._

  
Harry quickly went on to elaborate that Dumbledore knew what was contained in the prophecy because he was witness to it being given.

  
_Of course, Dumbledore knows what the prophecy said._

  
“…born as the seventh month dies…” _Yes, that’s Harry._

“…mark him as his equal…” _The scar on Harry’s forehead attests to that being true._

“…either must die at the hand of the other…” _Great so now Harry has to actually be the one to kill Voldemort._

“…neither can live while the other survives…” Hermione felt like she was going to break. She decided that if the twins had left this telescope behind then it must not have been important. She wanted to break something so she could stay together. Hermione squeezed the telescope in her hands. She felt it click. Curiosity won over logic, and she slowly brought it up to her eye to peer through.

  
BANG!

  
Hermione felt a pain in her right eye. Something had attacked her. She opened her eyes to search the room for the intruder.

  
She couldn’t see anything.

  
Hermione was surrounded in darkness. Even her good eye was not giving her any information to help locate the cause of her pain.

  
_I’ve gone blind._

  
_I can’t defend myself if I can’t see._

  
_Where’s the door?_

  
She coughed.

  
_I can’t breathe._

  
“Hermione!”

_Was that Harry’s voice or was it Ron’s?_

  
The cloud she had been surrounded by began to dissipate. Hermione could see the room come back into view. She could see Harry still sitting on the bed. She saw the breakfast tray had crashed to the floor. She saw Ron trying his hardest not to laugh at what had happened to her.

  
Hermione slowly brought her hand up to her right eye. She gingerly touched the flesh that usually carried the bags of her restless nights. Her heartrate slowed back to a normal level as she breathed deeply to calm herself.

  
“I squeezed it and it – it punched me!”


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione paced the kitchen of The Burrow. Her eye no longer hurt which was good, but Mrs. Weasley wasn’t able to heal the bruise. She began plotting how she was going to eviscerate Fred and George. It was the only thing keeping her mind off of her impending test scores.

Hermione Jean Granger knew she was smart. Her professors kept praising her intelligence, and they were smart, so they should know what they were talking about, right? She knew that she would have at least passed most of her O.W.L.s, but Acceptable wouldn’t get her into her N.E.W.T. level classes.

She hated the word Acceptable. It was a swear word upon her tongue. Acceptable was the condescending congratulations given to Muggle-borns.

_Oh, you’ve gotten an Acceptable? That’s passing! That’s very good, for a Muggle-born._

Acceptable wasn’t acceptable enough for Hermione Jean Granger. She knew she had to prove herself to all the Malfoys of the world. She had to earn her place at the table.

But had she done enough? She quickly turned back to methods of torture for the twins in her mind for distraction.

_I could always get Ginny to teach me her bat-bogey hex, she’s an artist with that. I could develop a curse that always leaves their socks wet. Or I could see if Mundungus is willing to break into their shop for me and ransack it._

Her mind continued to whirl. She was still able to join in bits of the conversation. Everyone seated at the kitchen table was tired of her constant self-doubt and groaning. Hermione tried her best to will the owls into existence, but to no avail. She didn’t know what she would do if it had worked.

Her pacing became more determined when Harry came downstairs.

Left, right, left, right, left, right. Turn. _I’m still here._

Left, right, left, right, left right. Pause. _I’m still fighting._ Turn.

Left, right, left. She stopped. She could see them.

She screamed. _I can’t do this._

The birds in the distance grew closer. They carried her fate with them. Soon they would all know she was a fraud. She was just another Muggle trying to play at magic. _Harry and Ron will still love me, right?_

She couldn’t breathe. _I’m still here._

Finally, the birds reached the kitchen window. Her thumb reached for the place on her bottom lip that had only just scabbed over. Each owl destined for one of the three friends waiting inside. Hermione’s hands were shaking again making it difficult to open the envelope to get her scores.

Her eyes slowly scanned the missive. _I’m still fighting._

**Ancient Runes- Outstanding**

_I can do this._

**Arithmancy- Outstanding**

_I can do this._

**Astronomy- Outstanding**

_I can do this._

**Care for Magical Creatures- Outstanding**

_I can do this._

**Charms- Outstanding**

_I can do this._

**Defense Against the Dark Arts- Exceeds Expectations**

_I can’t do this. No, don’t say that…_

**Herbology- Outstanding**

_I’m still here._

**History of Magic- Outstanding**

_I’m still fighting._

**Potions- Outstanding**

_I can do this._

**Transfiguration- Outstanding**

_I can do this!_

She read it again.

Then once more to be sure.

Her results didn’t change with the added scrutiny. She had done it. She passed all of her O.W.L.s. She got Outstandings on all of her tests except for Defense Against the Dark Arts. If there was ever any doubt that Delores Jane Umbridge was an abysmal teacher, it was put to rest in the fact that Hermione Jean Granger only got an Exceeds Expectations in her class.

And that was with being a member of Dumbledore’s Army.

Hermione began to feel her lungs deflate in a long sigh. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath. Her relief was palpable in the small kitchen. She’d done it. She’d proven that she deserved to stay in the magical world.

She wasn’t just good enough. She was Outstanding.

_Well, mostly…_

***

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_Ron let me borrow his owl, Pig, to send this. He’s very excitable so don’t leave him unattended in the kitchen near Granny’s china. Harry finally came last night, so it’s been good catching up with him this morning. He’s staying in the twins’ old room since they moved out. It’s nice that we don’t have to double up this time._

_I feel like I’ve been a wreck most of today because while we were in the twins’ room, I found a telescope that turned out to be one of their gag props. I am now the proud owner of a black eye. Before you two get upset, I’m fine. Mrs. Weasley tried to heal it, and the pain is gone, but the bruise won’t fade. Needless to say, I will be having a very serious conversation with Fred and George the next time I see them._

_The other reason I’ve been out of sorts today is because I received my test results today. I know that you’ll both be proud of me and love me no matter what, but unfortunately Mum, you owe me 10 quid because I didn’t get straight Outstandings._

_I got 9 Outstandings, and one Exceeds Expectations in Defense Against the Dark Arts. That’s the class with the terrible professor I told you about last year. Luckily, Harry’s study club (yes, I’m only calling it a study club because Dad made me promise to stop referring to it as an Army) that we founded really helped us all get our scores up. Of course, Harry got an Outstanding on his test. No thanks to Professor Umbridge._

_Harry is already bugging me to play Quidditch with him and Ron and Ginny because they need a fourth. Do you remember when I was small, and I begged you and Dad to let me take gymnastics. I put together a presentation as to why I should be allowed, and how I was sure that my dedication would lead me to the Olympics one day._

_I finally wore you two down and you agreed. Then during the first class they had us all line up and walk across the balance beam that was barely 20 centimeters off the ground. And then when I was halfway across it, I fell off and cried so hard that you had to take me home. And then I never wanted to go back._

_That’s how bad I am at flying._

_I’m even worse at Quidditch._

_I know you’ll only worry if I don’t bring it up, but yes, I’m still having nightmares. The psychology book you two got me has been helping. It had some good ideas on how to deal with trauma that I’ve been using. I’m going to try and use them with Harry too._

_Mrs. Weasley has been keeping me well fed, so you needn’t worry in that department. I know it was difficult for the two of you to agree to letting me stay with my friends this summer but thank you._

_I’m sorry for how I left things._

_Know that I will love you both always._

_Your Sugar Bug,_

_Hermione_

***

 _Stand over the broom and give the command ‘up’. That one never works move on to the next step._ Hermione leaned down to pick her broom off the ground.

_Keep your feet shoulder width apart with the broom between your legs._

_Check._

_Firmly grasp the handle._

_Don’t ever need to worry about that one as I will never be letting go._

_When you are ready push off from the ground with your legs and find your center of balance._

Hermione kicked off the ground, but balance was never something she achieved while sitting on a broom.

 _Don’t be the small child on the balance beam!_ She wobbled a little, then she ‘found her center’.

 _Steady now. Okay don’t look down. Tuck your feet up into the bristles. Hands in first position._ Hermione slowly moved her hands from the end of the broomstick closer to her where her body sat at the other end.

When she had managed to sit all the way up, she let her legs dangle towards the earth below. Her ankles quickly twisted around one another forcing her knees to hold the broom handle in a vice grip.

Harry had decided that she was going to play keeper today. This meant that she would get to endure being pummeled by Ginny. Repeatedly.

_Oh, joy._

Hermione shakily guided her broom between the goals that the Weasley family had set up in their backyard. Her hands never left the broom. She didn’t trust herself to hold on with only her legs. No matter how tightly they were clamped onto the broom.

 _Okay, so Ginny is going to try and fake me out._ Hermione moved to the opposite goal that Ginny was going for. _Unless of course she isn’t trying to fake me out and is just trying to get into my head._ Hermione jerked back towards her original position.

She wobbled again on her broom.

_Oh, Viktor would pay to see me flailing about up here right now. No, don’t get distracted, that’ll give Ginny the opening she needs. You know what, Ginny is going to score no matter what I do. My job here is survival._

Hermione’s thighs began to ache from gripping the broom so tightly. She uncrossed her ankles below her to try and take some of the stress away while still holding her grip with her hands. Every time she adjusted herself, her broom would make jerky movements, further upsetting her balance.

_I really wish I had listened when Dad said I should stick with gymnastics. That would be so helpful right now. Here stand on this narrow beam and don’t fall off. That would make sitting on a miniscule stick of wood easier._

_Focus Hermione!_

She’d lost sight of the Quaffle . She couldn’t tell if it was Harry or Ginny who currently had possession. Her eyes darted between the two and she finally spotted it under Ginny’s arm.

_Bollocks._

_Okay, I can do this. Watch where she’s going. I’ve never seen her look so serious before. That’s quite terrifying actually. Good Lord, how is everyone not petrified of this girl?_

Hermione’s palms were sweaty. She took a second to wipe them off on her shorts.

Ginny noticed.

When Hermione looked back up Ginny was already in position to throw the Quaffle. Hermione knew she wouldn’t be able to catch it and stay upright on her broom. Her plan was to block it with her body.

_Okay, Ginny weighs maybe 9 stones. There’s no way she should be able to knock me off my broom. I’ll just block the shot. I’ve already got a black eye, what’s another bruise?_

She turned broadside in front of the goal, trying to cover the most surface area. Ginny launched the ball.

Hermione’s plan worked.

Sort of.

Her body did indeed make contact with the Quaffle, but she didn’t stop it. Instead, Ginny’s throw pushed Hermione and the ball through the goal.

_Oh right, magic. How could I have forgotten! Way to go Granger, all that research of flying techniques and you still can’t do this right._

She rubbed the welt slowly growing on her side where the ball hit her. Harry graciously went to retrieve it since Hermione was becoming less and less enthused with their daily game of Quidditch.

“You’d better be glad we’re friends or I would never put up with this!” Hermione yelled at the other three players. Ginny flexed her arms as she flew over to Hermione.

“You ready to call it quits Hermione?” she asked.

“Yes, please.” As they all lowered to the ground, Hermione’s knees buckled when they touched the grass.

Everything hurt. Her knees and thighs from gripping the broom too tight. Her side from getting hit by the Quaffle. Her arms felt like noodles since she never let go of the handle. Her stomach hurt for some reason that she couldn’t work out.

“You okay Hermione?” Harry asked as he walked over from where he retrieved the Quaffle.

“I think so. You go ahead in. I’m just gonna lie out on the grass for a little bit until I can feel my legs again.” _And the rest of me._

“Okay, round two after lunch?” Harry asked standing over her.

“Can’t wait,” Hermione answered, closing her eyes so Harry wouldn’t see how far she had rolled them at his question.

_At least he’s happy. I’ll gladly endure this torture to keep him happy._

There was a rustle of grass next to her. She opened her eyes to see who had joined her. Hermione smiled at Ginny as she laid out also.

“You’re really bad a Quidditch, you know that, right?” the red head teased.

Hermione quickly stopped smiling, “Thank you for pointing that out to me, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Oh, anytime. I don’t get the opportunity to be better than you very often, so I like to take advantage when the occasion arises,” Ginny teased.

“Ugh, why does everything hurt? I can’t even move right now, but the three of you look like you could go and run a marathon.”

“Ignoring the fact that I don’t know what a marathon is, it’s quite simple why you’re lying like a blob of jelly right now. Your form is horrendous.”

“No, Ginny, you don’t have to take it easy on me, I can handle the hard truth.” Hermione rolled her eyes again.

“Well I’m no expert—” Ginny smiled with false humility, “—but I’m pretty sure your arms hurt because you held the broom like you were trying to strangle it. Which is rude, it’s not your broom’s fault. Your spine probably hurts because you sat hunched over like a Goblin. I know your side hurts because a Chaser with a cannon for an arm threw a Quaffle at you. Your thighs feel like they’re on fire because you aren’t used to holding a broom between your legs. That part you actually got right, it’ll hurt less the more you fly, you just gotta build up the muscle.”

Hermione smiled at the compliment, which was something that Ginny rarely gave. Especially when it concerned Hermione and flying.

“Okay, but why does my stomach hurt?”

“That’s probably from a mix of nerves and –” Ginny leaned over and poked Hermione in the stomach—“ the fact that you have a weak core. Which would explain your balance problems.”

“Thanks for summing that up for me Gin. I don’t understand it, I’ve read _Quidditch Through the Ages_ at least twice, I went to Madam Hooch first year for extra help, I even looked to see if _Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Broom Care_ gave any pointers for flying. I’m just absolute rubbish at it.”

Hermione tried to raise her arms to cover her face, not wanting to look at Ginny while being so vulnerable. When her arms still wouldn’t cooperate, she gave up and turned her head away instead. 

“Flying isn’t some homework assignment that you can research your way through,” Ginny said laughing at her friend. “It’s like handwriting. You just have to practice your way through it. Same with Quidditch, the more you play, the better you’ll get. Loving Quidditch, on the other hand, is something you’re born with, you either have it or you don’t.”

Hermione had almost asked Ginny for help, now she was relieved she hadn’t.

“I guess you’re right. I know I don’t have it.” Hermione knew that flying was just one small aspect of the magical world, but Quidditch might as well have decided the fate of wizarding kind. It bothered her that she couldn’t share in that love with her friends.

“You know you don’t have to keep playing with us, right? Especially if it’s bothering you this much.”

_Oh, yes I do._

***

Harry’s birthday came and went. Since they were sequestered in The Burrow, the friends had agreed that Harry would have to wait until after their Diagon Alley trip to get his birthday presents. It had been almost 3 weeks since Hermione had arrived, and it looked like her black eye was still fresh.

Her ire for the twins grew every day.

Hermione stood in front of the bathroom mirror once again. She had finished her routine and was packing up her toiletries when there was a soft knock at the door. Hermione quickly went to open it, surprised to find Ginny standing there already dressed.

“Umm, so I know this isn’t my area of expertise, but are you going to try and cover up your panda eye before we leave?” Ginny asked while awkwardly leaning against the doorframe.

“I was actually going to ask you about that,” Hermione’s face lit up while imagining the joy of not having to walk around Diagon Alley with her so dubbed ‘panda eye’. “I don’t have any concealer. Can I borrow some of yours?”

“I was afraid you were going to ask me. Mum says I’m not allowed to wear makeup until I’m 16. But I know someone who you could ask.” Ginny had an evil gleam in her eye. Hermione’s stomach dropped.

“Oh please, no! I’d rather leave it uncovered than talk to her!”

“I know you don’t mean that,” Ginny’s voice was disapproving. “What if you run into someone. Do you really want anyone to know that the twins pranked you when they weren’t even here?”

Hermione sighed. Ginny was right and Hermione knew it. She could survive a conversation with Fleur if it meant that she didn’t have to walk around shopping looking like she’d lost a fight. Hermione pushed past Ginny in the doorway and headed to Bill’s room.

Hermione stood with her hand prepared to knock on the door for several minutes trying to get the courage up. She ran through what she was going to say, but she couldn’t come up with a plan that wouldn’t end up with her being insulted. Finally, she gave up and knocked.

Nothing happened. Hermione counted to 10 and knocked a little louder.

There was a shuffling on the other side, and a bleary-eyed blonde opened the door. Apparently, Fleur had decided to sleep in this Saturday morning.

_Oops. So much for starting off on a good foot with her._

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Hermione sheepishly apologized. Fleur didn’t say anything, so she continued, “We’re heading into Diagon Alley today, and Ginny suggested I ask you for some concealer to cover my eye.”

Fleur blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes before responding. “I don’t wear makeup.”

Hermione’s face fell.

_Of course, perfect Fleur doesn’t have any imperfections that she needs to cover up._

She felt heat rising in her cheeks. Hermione turned quickly, so she wouldn’t have to face the part Veela while tears were starting to threaten her eyes. She started to head back down the stairs.

Fleur reached out and grabbed her arm before Hermione got too far away.

“You don’t need it eezer.” The blonde pulled Hermione in and Fleur put her hands on both of the younger witch’s shoulders. “Even if you are stuck wiz zat black eye forever, it is not somezing to be ashamed of.”

Fleur took one of her hands off of Hermione’s shoulder. She lifted up the edge of her night shirt. Hermione gasped when she saw the faint traces of scars across the older girl’s stomach.

“Back in ze Tournament, zose, oh, what is ze word, Bill would know.” Fleur waved her hand around as if trying to grab the word out of the air. “Ze water demons?”

“Grindylows.” Hermione supplied

“Yes! Ze grindylows in ze lake. Zey stopped me from getting to my seester in time. Zey were perseestant. Ze ‘ealers were not able to feex it, but it does not matter, because beauty is not in ze skin.” She wrapped Hermione in a hug as tears fell down the younger witch’s cheeks. “Do not be ashamed of your scars. Zey are a warning for ozers. You are strong, and your scars let everyone else know zat.”

Hermione gripped Fleur tighter. Her tears freely flowing now. “Thank you.” She sobbed into Fleur’s shoulder. “It’s just so hard sometimes. I have to be strong for everyone else, but I feel like I’m never strong enough.”

Fleur lifted Hermione’s head and wiped away her tears with her thumb. “You are a strong girl, but you are also a smart girl. Your job is not to carry ze world on your soldiers. Do not let anyone make you forget zat, not even yourself”

“Do you mean shoulders?”

“Is zat not wat I said?”

***

Hermione was glad for the pep talk she’d had with Fleur. While they were shopping for their robes, they had run into the Malfoys, and the Pureblood family was as pleasant as always. Fleur’s words stayed with Hermione and she held her head high through Malfoy’s petty insults.

They met back up with the rest of the Weasley family. Hermione had asked Mrs. Weasley to pick up an extra book for Harry’s present. She was hoping for the latest Puddlemere United catalog that would have featured Harry’s old Captain, Oliver Wood. The older woman discretely passed Hermione a bag with a wink.

The group made their way down the usually cheerful street. Closed stores haunted the sidewalk around them. The ghosts of the past were only able to travel so far, because up ahead merriment was still reigning.

No one had ever accused Fred and George Weasley of being subtle.

Hermione gasped when their shop came into view. The windows were packed with flashing lights to bring attention to be products being displayed. There were a myriad of sounds that joined in the light show. People were stopping to stare wide-eyed at the displays, some having to duck out of the way to avoid being hit by small fireworks.

Hermione was reminded of Harrods window displays in December.

She wanted to be objective, she wanted to analyze the store from an outside perspective, but as soon as she saw the bold purple “You-No-Poo” sign she started giggling. Hermione had had an emotionally draining morning after her crying session with Fleur, and then being stoic against the Malfoys while they hurled insults at her and her friends.

It was either laugh or start crying again.

Hermione chose to laugh.

Ginny shot her a disbelieving look as her giggling turned into guffawing. Hermione had to stop walking forward to try and gather herself. Somehow the image of Voldemort straining over a toilet crossed her mind.

Hermione lost all control of herself after that.

“What is wrong with you?” Ginny demanded while she had to drag her uncontrollable friend down the street.

“I… don’t… know” Hermione gasped out between her fits of laughter. “It’s such a dumb pun.” She took a few deeps breaths. “It’s not even that funny.” Hermione wiped at her eyes, not even realized she’d started crying again.

“Merlin, Hermione. You’re too serious,” Ginny scolded. “You’ve got to let go more, or you’re going to keep breaking down over the stupidest things.”

Every time Hermione tried to school her features, she’d dissolve into another bout of giggles again. Ginny was not looking pleased. Finally, Hermione was able to reign herself in.

“I think you might be right. But I’m good now. Let’s head on in.” Hermione finished straightening herself out and the two caught up with the rest of their group and entered the store.

If the outside of the shop managed to crack Hermione up, she was woefully unprepared for what awaited her inside. People pressed all around her trying to make their way from the door to the shelves to the register. There were more than just their Skiving Snackboxes.

The twins had been busy.

The group made their way through the throng to a display in the middle of the store. Hermione picked up one of the many boxes on the stand, she turned it over and read from the cardboard.

 _“‘Patented Daydream Charms. One Simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens._ ’ You know that is really extraordinary magic.”

“For that, Hermione,” she jumped at the sound of her name behind her, “you can have one for free.” She turned to see one of the twins. From the proud smile on his face, Hermione guessed it was Fred. “How are you, Harry?” he went around the group exchanging pleasantries with his siblings before landing back on her. “And what’s happened to your eye, Hermione?”

“Your punching telescope,” Hermione watched a look of shock on Fred’s face turn into a guilty smile.

“Oh blimey, I forgot about those. Here—” he patted down the pockets of his robe trying to find something. He found a tin and started to unscrew the cap. “Just dab it on , that bruise’ll be gone within the hour. We had to find a decent bruise remover. We’re testing most of our products on ourselves.”

“It is safe isn’t it?” Hermione eyed the cream nervously. _Fool me once Fred Weasley, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me._

“’Course it is. Here let me help.” Fred took the tin back from her and dipped two fingers in it. Hermione sighed her reluctance but closed her eyes and let Fred make his amends.

He carefully dabbed at the bruise that lingered on her upper lid. His fingers danced from her nose to the other side of her eye. He cupped her face in his hand while he smeared the cream on her bottom lid with his thumb, as if wiping away a tear.

Hermione opened her eyes. Fred’s hand lingered. Her eyes traced a path along his arm up to his face. She stopped when her gaze met his.

Ginny coughed.

Fred quickly pulled his hand away. “There you go Hermione. Come on, Harry I’ll give you a tour.” The two quickly headed off deeper into the shop.

“Ginny, please tell me that I don’t have purple hair now or anything.” Hermione pleaded with her friend.

“No, I think the cream really was medicine. Your eye is even starting to look better.” Ginny smiled. “Let’s go check out the rest of their stuff.”

Hermione nodded her agreement. She realized she still had the Daydream Charm in her hands. She quickly put it back on the display with the others. _As if I would want to slack off now that I’ll be taking N.E.W.T. level classes._

The two set off to explore what was lining the shelves. Hermione saw barrels of trick wands. She started laughing again remembering Ron’s misfortune during Truth or Dare. Ginny rolled her eyes. They passed shelves lined with piles of quills. Hermione stopped in her tracks to admire the twins’ work.

_Spell checking quill! That’s brilliant, I wouldn’t have to check Ron and Harry’s work all the time. Why are those at a joke shop? See now the Smart Answer quills make sense. Trust the twins to find a way to do less work._

Hermione lingered in front of the Self-Inking quills. The ingeniousness behind the idea astounded her. She wouldn’t have to carry ink wells around with her and risk ruining her books anymore. She sighed; she’d spent her extra money already on Harry’s present. Hermione didn’t want to dip into her Hogsmeade funds yet.

She especially did not want to owl her parents for more money during the school year. _Especially not after…_

Ginny drifted back to where Hermione stood transfixed by the charmed quills. “Just so you know, that was Fred that gave you the cream.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Oh?” Ginny’s voice went up in question.

“Believe it or not, Ginny, I’ve known your brothers almost six years now. I am capable of telling them apart, even if they have the same face.” Hermione retorted.

“Ok, ok. It’s just that even Mum and Dad have trouble with it sometimes. How do you keep them separate?”

“Well, it’s not fool proof, but usually, Fred is the more outgoing one. He acts first, then thinks. He’s all emotion. George is more subdued. I knew it was Fred because of the dorky grin he walked up wearing.”

“That’s very well-reasoned argument Ms. Granger.” Ginny teased. “However, I’ll expect 12 inches on the subject by Tuesday.”

“Yes, Professor Weasley.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Eww, Professor Weasley sounds weird please don’t you or your brothers become teachers.”

“Agreed. Although could you even imagine any of my brothers becoming professors. I mean maybe Percy. He was the only one studious enough for me to even consider as an academic.”

“Look around you Ginny,” Hermione taunted while gesturing around them. “Fred and George are geniuses.” Ginny smirked and tilted her head. She looked behind Hermione where one of the redheads in question was heading back from his tour with Harry.

“Do you have any idea the kind of magic involved in these items?” Hermione continued, “I mean I always knew they were smarter than they let on, but this store is baffling.” She picked up one of the Daydream Charms from the display they had drifted back to. “Patented Ginny, they invented something! How could you not think of them studious?”

Hermione felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. “You can stop your gushing Hermione, I already agreed to give you one on the house.”

She motioned to the arm that rested on her shoulder. _Fred,_ Hermione mouthed to Ginny, who nodded in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for reading! I'm looking at updating every other Saturday, so November 14 will be the next update.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione moved with the sway of the train. She and Ron had finished their prefect rounds and were headed to the compartment where Harry was waiting for them. They walked down the corridor and found him in a compartment with Neville and Luna.

“Good to see you two again. Were you able to heal this summer Hermione?” Luna asked while adjusting the interesting glasses she was sporting.

“Thank you, Luna. I think I did get a chance to heal up spending time with Harry and the Weasleys.”

“I can see, you look lighter. You carry yourself differently. Like Neville does now.” Luna’s gaze gestured towards the other boy in the compartment. “What happened at the Ministry seems to have unlocked his inner lion.”

Hermione was about to comment back when a third-year girl burst in with two scrolls, one for Harry and one for Neville. They were invitations. The two quickly left to meet with the new Professor Slughorn.

Luna returned to her article in the Quibbler. Hermione never knew how to act around the strange girl. She knew Luna was a true friend who would willingly follow Harry into battle. Hermione could trust the girl with her life, but that didn’t make small talk come easily.

Hermione and Ron fell into a comfortable silence. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about Harry’s mental state since he’s arrived at The Burrow. Hermione finally decided that she could bring up the conversation in front of Luna.

“How do you think Harry is going to do this year?”

“Dunno,” Ron answered scratching his head. “He’s got plenty to keep him busy being Quidditch Captain and all. I ‘spect he’ll be alright.”

“Yes, but he was so adamant about being an Auror,” Hermione mused. “But he didn’t get a high enough O.W.L. score for Snape to take him into his N.E.W.T. course. Did he have a backup plan?”

Luna perked up her head from her magazine. “Harry wants to be an Auror? I always thought with the way he led D.A. that he would want to be a professor.”

Ron and Hermione locked eyes. “Huh,” was all Ron could offer.

“You know,” mused Hermione. “that makes a lot of sense. I know I only got an E because Harry was so good at coaching us in Defense. I don’t know if that’s ever occurred to him. He was such a natural at it.”

Hermione had to admit that Luna made sense. _I’ll have to suggest that to Harry if he doesn’t find another career path after school._

The three fell into a companionable silence after that. Soon the compartment door opened, and they were rejoined by Neville along with Ginny.

“Where’s Harry?” Ron leaned his head out into the hallway.

“He’s gone off to spy on Malfoy.” Ginny answered while rolling her eyes.

“Of course he is,” Hermione sighed. “He was convinced in Diagon Alley that Malfoy has replaced his Lucious as a Death Eater since his father was arrested after the Ministry attack.”

“I wish I could have remembered some of that night.” Ron chimed in. “All I have are these scars on my arms from where those things wrapped around me. Would have been wicked to see Harry and Neville dueling Death Eaters.” He gestured toward the other boy.

Hermione felt an uneasiness in her stomach. She had been the first to go down in the fight. Ron’s memory was affected because of the jinxes and whatever it was that the Brains had done to him. Luna had been blasted across the room and knocked out, and Ginny was the last of them standing, so to speak with her injured leg, but even she had been stunned eventually.

But then there was Neville.

He had helped Harry carry her through the Department of Mysteries. He had used her wand after his was snapped. He had a broken nose, but he never left Harry’s side while the Death Eaters were trying to stop them.

She would never be able to thank him enough for that.

 _What nightmares does he have rolling around in his head at night?_ She didn’t have to wonder for long.

“Oh, come on you guys.” Neville interjected. “It wasn’t anything that you four wouldn’t have done, that you did do. I know you would have been right there next to Harry if you were able.”

Neville paused and looked out the window of their compartment. He gathered himself before continuing.

“Honestly, Ron, I kind of envy you. I remember every minute of that night. I had nightmares for weeks after it. Kept seeing Bellatrix dueling Sirius, or sometimes it was her torturing my parents, or Harry dying because I broke the prophecy.

“It was terrible. I would wake up in the night screaming. I thought Gran was gonna disown me, but the strangest thing happened. Like I was telling Luna and Harry earlier, Gran has been praising me left and right. Said I’m finally living up to my father’s legacy.

“I asked her why she wasn’t disappointed in me. She said, ‘nightmares come with war, and we’re at war now’. I don’t know, after I talked to Gran about it, they weren’t as bad anymore. She even told me that my dad used to have them too, towards the end.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes after Neville’s confession. Hermione thought over what he said. _He feels like it’s brought him closer to his father. Good for him trying to find the positives from that horrible night. I wonder if Harry would be able to do that. I wonder if I could do that…_

“I have nightmares too.” Hermione was stunned to hear her own voice break the silence. No one pressed her for more information, but Ron reached out his arm from where they were sitting and wrapped her in a brotherly side hug.

“It was a terrible thing that happened,” Luna joined in. “But you have to get the terribleness out of you, otherwise it sits in your head and grows. I find that sitting by the river at home helps to get it out. Father says that the flowing water helps to carry it away.”

Conversation picked up after that. Ron suggested a game of Exploding Snap. It helped to get their minds off of the dark memories that were fighting their way into their carriage. As the train neared Hogwarts, the uneasiness that Hermione felt was slowly growing.

Harry didn’t show up when they started to change into their robes. He wasn’t there when the train pulled into the station. He still wasn’t there when they started to drag their trunks onto the platform.

Hermione was convinced that the knot in her stomach was because of Harry’s absence. She dragged her trunk to the edge of the platform where students are queuing for transportation up to the castle. Then she saw them.

The carriages.

Hermione quickly turned her back on the carriages. Her breathing quickened. _You can’t see them. You weren’t there when it happened. You can’t see them!_

Her mind wasn’t listening to reason. Her nightmare from weeks ago crept back up on her. Harry’s voice echoed in her head

_You don’t belong in our world._

_You don’t belong in our world._

_YOU DON’T BELONG IN OUR WORLD!_

“Hermione, what’s wrong?” Someone was speaking, she didn’t know who.

_YOU DON’T BELONG._

She saw red hair, but she couldn’t focus on who it was.

_YOU DON’T BELONG._

She felt herself being dragged down the queue towards the carriages.

Towards the Thestrals.

Towards her nightmare.

“Hermione, are you with me?” She knew that voice. She was coming out of it. “Rub her shoulders Ginny, she’s coming back to us.”

Hermione felt hands on her shoulders. The rubbing was bringing heat back into her. _When did I get so cold?_ She blinked her eyes back into focus. There were silvery eyes looking back at her.

“Luna?” The blonde girl nodded. “What happened?”

“I think a wrackspurt came and nested in your hair.” _Definitely Luna…_

“You started to have a panic attack Hermione,” Ginny responded from behind Hermione.

For the first time, Hermione looked at where the Thestrals should have been standing. She didn’t see anything. Her friends were standing around her, but they were comforting her. They were worried about her.

This was nothing like her nightmare.

She released the breath she had been holding. She kept staring at the nothingness in front of the carriages. Luna followed her gaze.

“You still can’t see them, can you?”

“No,” Hermione admitted.

Luna grabbed her hand and guided Hermione towards the next carriage. The blonde girl raised Hermione’s hand and placed it on something she couldn’t see. There was a warm, fleshy feeling under her palm. Hermione began to rub her hand on what she assumed was the creature’s snout.

“It’s not their fault, Hermione, that they took us to the Ministry that night. Just like it’s not your fault what happened when we arrived. They can’t control why people are able to see them, but you’re able to change how people see you. You can change how you see you.”

Luna hugged Hermione, then walked back to where the rest of their group was still in the queue. Ginny offered her a sympathetic smile. The knot in Hermione’s stomach loosened, but only a little.

***

Hermione made it into the castle without further incident. The singing of the school song didn’t take as long as usual without Fred and George dragging it along. The Sorting Hat made his usual appearance and gave a warning to trust your convictions and band together, which seemed appropriate given the onset of war. The first years were sorted, and the feast began.

Harry showed up covered in blood in time for dessert.

Dumbledore gave his speech. He introduced the new potions professor and made a special mention of a ban on all Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products. Finally, there was his warning about Lord Voldemort. When he had finished, he dismissed the students to their houses.

Hermione quickly leapt to grab the Gryffindor first years. She guided the group of eleven-year-olds up several flights of stairs.

_Was I really that small my first night here at Hogwarts?_

She tried to capture their wide-eyed-wonder into her memory. Their hope, despite what was going on in the world around them, was something to be commended. Her brave little Gryffindors. There were one or two misty eyes among the group, but Hermione was sure it was just being their first night away from home.

They finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione gave the password and ushered them all inside. She pointed to the two staircases and the boys and girls headed up to find their new beds.

Exhausted from her ordeal after getting off the train, Hermione decided that she would do best to turn in for the night. She riffled through her trunk and found her pajamas. After she was changed, she nestled into her four-poster. Unfortunately, experience told Hermione that she should close the curtains and cast a silencing spell. She tried to stop the images of the day from flitting behind her closed eyes.

Harry’s bloody entrance into the Great Hall.

Dumbledore’s withered black hand.

Ginny and Luna’s worried faces as Hermione had her panic attack.

Neville’s vacant stare as he recounted his memories from the Department of Mysteries.

It was no wonder that she had another nightmare.

***

Hermione got out of bed early. It wasn’t difficult since she’d woken up a few hours ago drenched in sweat. She had to endure watching herself do nothing as the new group of first years were tortured by faceless Death Eaters.

Sleep had eluded her after that.

She would have started her morning routine when she realized trying to go back to sleep was useless, but it was too early to be out of bed. Not wanting to break curfew, Hermione waited for the sun to peek over the hills before gathering her things and heading off to the prefect bathroom.

Normally she would have bathed at night, but she was too tired last night. Hermione made her way down the many sets of stairs and thankfully found the bathroom empty. She pulled the taps and started to fill the large tub.

When it was full, she turned off the water and sank in. She let the warm water ease the tension that had built in her muscles and joints. The magical bubbles were cleaning her body, so she didn’t have to scrub, she just enjoyed her float.

Eventually she had to get out, since she had to pick up her schedule at breakfast. Soon she was dressed and staring at her reflection in the mirror.

“I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I can do this.”

She packed up all of her things and ran back upstairs to drop off her toiletries and to grab her school bag.

When she made it back down the stairs from her dorm, she ran into Harry and Ron. The three of them discussed what happened on the train with Malfoy. Hermione tried to give a fair analysis of the situation, but she was preoccupied with what today would bring to give a committed answer.

She’d confiscated a fanged frisbee from a younger student and Ron quickly took it from her hands. Hermione heard a giggling behind her. She didn’t even need to turn around to see who it was. 

Hermione didn’t have a problem with Lavender Brown. The only thing Hermione held against Lavender was her firm belief in Divination. She was a nice girl. Tried to include Hermione in a few things but didn’t push and left Hermione alone when asked.

Lavender liked to treat every night at Hogwarts like it was a sleepover. This was why Hermione recognized her giggling so easily. She’d lost several hours of sleep to those giggles over the years. Hermione thought she was a little childish, but that was to be expected since she hadn’t had to deal with all the things Harry, Ron and Hermione had.

_Let her enjoy her innocence._

The trio entered the Great Hall and sat down to grab breakfast. Soon Professor McGonagall was making her rounds to pass out the schedules. Hermione had decided to drop Care for Magical Creatures, History of Magic, and Astronomy. She grabbed her new schedule from McGonagall and rushed off to Ancient Runes.

***

Hermione barely had time to think during her first day. Ancient Runes had already assigned several large reading passages, a 15-inch essay and two translations that were due Wednesday. She quickly walked to her next class, not even able to fit all her books into her bag. Thankfully, she had a break after Defense and was going to get started on it all.

Harry and Ron showed up, of course they’d been given identical schedules. The two of them were closer than Ron was with his actual brothers. They were her best friends, but Hermione would always be jealous of the relationship the two of them had.

The doors to the class were whisked open and Professor Snape ushered them all in. Walking into the all too familiar room, which until recently had been pink, Hermione fell into the routine that was established last year with Professor Umbridge and took her textbook out.

Hermione instantly regretted her decision.

“I have not asked you to take out your books.”

Wanting to distance himself from his predecessor, Professor Snape was trying to show his skill for Defense Against the Dark Arts. In his usual fashion, Snape started class by giving a dramatic speech, complete with mood lighting. In her first year, Hermione had hung on his every word that first Potions class. She had leaned in, entranced, to absorb all of his whispered words.

His appeal quickly faded.

Snape made sure he berated the class, instilling a fear of failure in them. Hermione didn’t need the reminder. He soon moved on to the lesson that was planned: practicing nonverbal spells. The class was paired off to work on generating a shield charm.

_Protego. Nothing difficult. You’ve been practicing this with Harry since fourth year. You can do this Hermione. Just keep your mouth shut, because that’s always been something you’re good at._

She wanted to roll her eyes at herself. She chased the sarcasm out of her head and took a deep breath. 

Professor Snape should have known she was a remarkable student from her time in his potions class. Hermione shouldn’t need to prove herself to him. Not again. But Snape was teaching Defense now. Hew lowest O.W.L., she was desperate to show improvement.

Of course, Hermione had already read _Confronting the Faceless_. She knew the theory, but this was putting it into practice. She rehearsed the steps in her mind.

_Think about how it felt to cast the spell normally. Remember how it felt to have the magic leave your center. Visualize the spell, shout it in your mind if you have to, but do not open your mouth._

Hermione faced her partner, Neville, and drew a shaky breath. Wand at the ready. They decided that Hermione would try to curse him first. She tossed her partner a simple stinging hex.

Neville was too slow. The spell hit him in the leg, and he winced. When he recovered, Neville nodded to Hermione to get into position. Both partners raised their wands.

He gave her a little wink and made a large sweeping motion with his wand arm. Hermione saw his lips move but didn’t hear the incantation that he muttered. Something seemed different.

Hermione froze.

_Dolohov._

Hermione saw the hallways of the Department of Mysteries. She was running beside Harry and Neville once more. Death Eaters were rushing around them, trying to get the prophecy in Harry’s hand. She was face to face with the silenced wizard. He raised his wand.

Hermione felt the spell hit the old, familiar ache in her chest.

“Oh.”

Her legs weakened and she went down.

_This is it. This is how I die._

She didn’t die.

Slowly the classroom faded back into view. Hermione lay on her back staring at the ceiling. She blinked a few times to clear her eyes. She rubbed at the sore spot on her chest where a scar remained. Hermione tried to stand to her feet, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate.

_Jelly-legs jinx. You had a flashback because of a jelly-legs jinx._

Neville shot her a worried look and made to come across the room. She waved him off, mumbled the counter curse and got up off the ground. She nodded to her partner and raised her wand. She took a deep breath before continuing.

_I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I can do this_

***

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur. The three spent their break talking about what Dumbledore could possibly want to meet with Harry about. Hermione was a little miffed that she didn’t even get a chance to work on her Ancient Runes assignments, and now she had Snape’s homework piled on top of that.

Sooner than she would have liked, Hermione had to leave her friends and hurry to Arithmancy. When class ended, she picked up her number charts and headed to the Great Hall for lunch. Instead of getting started on her growing pile of assignments, Hermione decided that she would spend her lunch break writing to her parents.

_Monday_ _2_ _September 1996_

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I thought I’d take some time during my lunch to let you know how things are going. So far, I’ve been to three classes, and they’re really piling on all the work. I’m so glad that I listened to you two when you suggested that I only take the classes that I’m really interested in. I can’t imagine having to do all this work while still taking Astronomy, Care for Magical Creatures, and History of Magic._

_I’m starting to reminisce about my third year when I had the Time Turner. I could use a few extra hours today to get ahead on some of my work. Don’t worry, I won’t be able to get one. We kind of destroyed them all last year when we broke into the Department of Mysteries._

_Oh sorry Dad, I meant when Study Club took a field trip to protest our government’s handling of certain political issues._

_Last night, after the Feast, I was escorting the First Years up to our dorms, and I swear they’re so tiny. I do not for one second believe that I was that small when I was 11. I’m convinced that there’s magic involved._

_I hope you two are doing good. I know that I didn’t write as much as I should have this summer, but now that I’m settled in here at school, I should be able to get into a more comfortable routine._

Hermione debated with herself about whether to tell her parents about her two panic attacks since she’d arrived at school, or her continued nightmares. She knew it was being dishonest, but she didn’t want them to worry more than they already were. She decided against it.

_I can’t wait to hear back from you two! Love you both so much._

_Your Sugar Bug,_

_Hermione_

She quickly grabbed up her bag and headed to the owlery to send her letter. Eventually she found herself back in the common room with her best friends who were struggling with Snape’s homework. Hermione smiled to herself, she was always most comfortable when her boys needed her help.

She hoped that never changed.

***

The trio made their way down the stairs from Gryffindor Tower. When they had made it down the seven flights of stairs to the first floor, they continued down the hallway that led to yet another flight of stairs.

Down.

Down.

Down they walked.

An eerie chill cascaded down Hermione’s spine. She tried to shake the feeling of doom that she now associated with being underground.

_It’s okay, this is stairs. You can handle stairs. Thank God there isn’t a lift here. You’re just headed to Potions class. You’ve been coming here at least once a week since you were 11. You have a fresh start ahead of you. New professor who doesn’t already think of you as an ‘insufferable know-it-all’. Deep breaths._

She felt a small measure of peace. Hermione didn’t know what to expect from their new Potions teacher.

_Professor Slughorn can’t be any worse than Umbridge, so I’m sure we’ll be fine on that front. There’s no way you can learn Potions without actually being able to practice. Then there’s what Harry said about him, seems like he’s going to play favorites. Hopefully, he won’t be another Snape and just dote of the Slytherins._

Her musings were brought to an end by the appearance of Ernie Macmillan, the only Hufflepuff to being taking N.E.W.T. level Potions that year. Before Ernie could turn his attention to Hermione’s existence, the door to the Potions room opened and Professor Slughorn ushered the 12 of them inside.

The difference between Professor Slughorn and Snape went deeper than the obvious physical ones. Professor Slughorn was smiling. Hermione didn’t think she’d ever seen Snape smile.

_Wait it’s not true. He seemed pretty happy when he thought he was going to get an Order of Merlin for turning in Sirius. Maybe he was smiling when he thought he was going to watch Sirius get the Dementor’s Kiss._

Inside the room there were already cauldrons simmering with different potions. There was one at each of the three tables that had four chairs. Between the four Slytherins, the four Ravenclaws, and the three of them, it looked like Ernie was going to be part of their group now.

_Great… Well I guess better him than Malfoy._

Hermione glanced in all the cauldrons as she passed them trying to determine where to sit. She ignored the colorless, odorless Veritaserum. She eyed the brown Polyjuice Potion and made eye contact with Harry. His eyes grew wide, and he gave a near imperceptible shake of his head and pointed down at the las cauldron that he stood by.

After Harry and Ron had grabbed spare books from the back, the four of them sat down at the last table.

“Now then,” Professor Slughorn started. “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?”

_My time to shine!_

“It’s Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth.” Hermione went on to identify the Polyjuice Potion and the Amortentia that Harry was so keen to sit by.

“Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals, and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and –” Hermione stopped herself and felt a blush creeping up her cheeks.

_Why are you just prattling on about what attracts you!? New parchment? As if they didn’t already think you were in love with books enough! Thank God you stopped talking before you admitted it smelled like benzocaine. Nothing like having to explain to a bunch of purebloods what a Muggle tooth medicine is._

Hermione was fairly certain that the rest of the class would be able to see Thestrals now because she had just died on the inside. She barely heard Professor Slughorn’s follow up questions and mumbled her response. She focused back in time to hear Harry pay her the biggest complement she’d ever received.

“Did you really tell him I’m the best in the year? Oh, Harry!”

She wanted to reach out and hug him but knew it would only embarrass him in front of so many Slytherins. She felt her eyes watering up and she quickly looked away. Hermione heard Ron say something about wanting to compliment her also, but she shushed him. She couldn’t handle anymore nice things from her boys.

Ron looked dejected. _Oh shoot. I’ll have to talk with him about that later._

Professor Slughorn continued on with his opening speech, introducing them to Felix Felicis. Hermione once again answered his question about the nature of the potion. The professor stared off reminiscing about his time using the ‘Liquid Luck’.

_What is it about potions professors that make them so dramatic? Is it just long-term exposure to fumes that messes with your head? Or do they just get off on having younger people think they’re cool?_

Hermione decided not to dwell on it. She quickly rummaged in her bag for _Advanced Potion-Making_ and turned to page 10.

“Draught of Living Death”

She scanned the instructions and started to pull her supplies out of her bag. She grabbed her knife and started to chop her valerian roots into equal sized portions. Years of helping her mother in the kitchen gave her a steady and quick hand.

_See Malfoy, this is why having a house-elf at your beck and call is such a terrible thing. You miss out on important life lessons._

When Hermione added her roots to her cauldron a soft blue steam swirled up from the depths. A quick glance around the room told her that everyone else was still chopping their roots. She looked in her textbook to make sure that was supposed to happen, it checked out.

Hermione moved on to the next few steps in the book. Soon the Potions class was full of the blue steam. She felt her hair shifting, and quickly she looked to her wrist for a hair tie before it was too late.

She forgot to put her hair tie back on her arm after her bath that morning.

_Great! Now I’m going to look like a banshee for the rest of the day._

Hermione looked down at her Draught of Living Death that had turned to the correct shade of black as described in the book. The next step had her cutting up sopohorous beans, which she knew from experience was never an easy task. She sawed at the hard exterior of the bean trying to extract a few drops of the stubborn juice.

After what seemed like ages, she had cut up enough of the stubborn beans and mixed their juices into her black potion. It turned a deep purple. Her eyes glanced at the other cauldrons, but she was still ahead of everyone else. She checked the book.

‘light shade of lilac’

Hermione reread all the instructions; something wasn’t right. She brought her fist up to her lip and started picking at a piece of dry skin on her lower lip with her thumb nail. She wanted to pace, but the crowded room wouldn’t let her.

_Deep breath Hermione. Okay read it again. You did everything right. Maybe your ingredients aren’t as fresh as they should be. You’ll just have to owl the apothecary and get a fresh batch later. You’ve got to make do with what you have right now. You got and Outstanding in Potions. You are a smart witch; you’ll figure this out. Now pull yourself together!_

“Can I borrow your silver knife?” Harry’s question pulled her out of her mental pep talk, and she passed it to him.

_Wait, silver knife? That wasn’t in the directions._

Hermione eyed Harry working next to her. He took the silver knife and squished the sopohorous bean and more than enough juice squirted out of just one bean. When Harry added the juice to his potion it turned a soft lilac.

 _Oh, that’s such bullshit!_ Hermione gasped. She usually had better control over her frustration. Even mentally, an outburst like that was uncommon. Sweat started to drip down her neck from the heat in the room.

She read the next instructions in the book. ‘Stir counterclockwise until it becomes clear’, seemed easy enough. She grabbed her stirring rod and set to work. The book didn’t give an exact number of stirs, so this could take a while.

Hermione gave up stirring with two hands and was alternating between her two arms. Whichever arm wasn’t busy stirring was soon occupied by picking at the spot on her lip. She turned her head to look at Harry’s cauldron and felt her hair rub against Ernie next to her.

_Today just keeps getting better! Now my hair is in a full-blown frizz, I’m going to have to take a shower tonight to tame it._

Harry’s potion was clearly getting much lighter than hers was.

“How are you doing that?” Hermione’s frustration was evident in her voice.

“Add a clockwise stir—"

Hermione rolled her eyes while quickly cutting off the rest of Harry’s sentence. Clockwise wasn’t written in the book, so Hermione wasn’t going to do it. She went back to stirring with two hands. She didn’t trust her hands to stop picking at her lip before it started bleeding.

Hermione had to start a chant in her head to keep her stirring even. It started off as “Row, row, row your boat” but when she saw Harry’s potion was nearly clear it devolved into “This, this, this is shite”.

Finally, Professor Slughorn called time. As he made his way around the room, he appraised each cauldron. When he got to Hermione’s, she was rewarded with an approving nod. She nearly melted into the floor right then and there with relief.

But then he saw Harry’s.

Professor Slughorn’s face lit up, and praises effused from his lips naming Harry as the winner.

_Fuck!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts at last!  
> Now I did tag this as a slow burn, so don't be disappointed that our favorite red head isn't in every chapter. Chapter 5 is the next time we get to hear from him, and I don't even know what chapter it is that we get to see him again. 
> 
> I'd like to say thank you to all the wonderful people who have been commenting and leaving kudos because that is currently my life blood. 
> 
> Chapter 4 should be posted on November 28!


	4. Chapter 4

_3 September 1996_

_Dear Sugar Bug,_

_Your father and I were glad to hear from you so soon! I can’t wait to hear more about the classes you’re taking this year. I’m especially looking forward to hearing about your Herbology class, you know that one’s my favorite._

_I know you probably won’t be reading this until tomorrow morning. I still don’t understand why Witches and Wizards haven’t developed a faster way to send mail. Don’t get me wrong, they’re moving much faster than the Postman, but it seems like they should have something that could keep up with email._

Hermione rolled her eyes, leave it to her mother to bring up how the Muggle world was better. One day for delivery of a letter was nothing to look down on. She kept reading.

_I think that your father and I have truly outdone ourselves this year with your birthday present. I wish we could be there to see you open it in person, but I will just have to think back to how excited you were when Father Christmas brought you that doll house when you were five._

_I think it will equal that._

_Speaking of young Hermione, I can assure you, that yes, you were that small when you started Hogwarts. When we dropped you off at the station, your head barely came up to my ribs, and that’s including your hair._

_Unfortunately, they won’t stay that small forever, and if I had access to magic, the first thing I would do is make it to where you never got bigger. I would keep you my baby forever._

_Oh, now I’ve gone and gotten myself emotional. I best end this before your father finds me weeping in the kitchen clutching your old photo albums._

_Love you,_

_Mum_

***

Wake up.

Analyze latest nightmare. _Should I be writing these down? No, I don’t want to remember them longer than I need to._

Get caught up on reading while waiting for your alarm to go off.

Take a cold shower to convince your body that sleep won’t be returning today.

Cold cream, brush your teeth, brush your hair.

_I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I can do this._

Head down to breakfast and read the _Daily Prophet_.

Learn what new atrocities happened in the Wizarding World yesterday.

Lose appetite.

Attend morning classes and get assigned mountains of new work.

_We’re just practicing spells, no one here is trying to curse you. Deep breaths._

Get insulted by Snape for some thing or another.

Help Ron and Harry with their essays and nonverbal spells.

Skip lunch to work in the library on your own growing pile of essays and nonverbal spells.

_Can I squeeze in a 15-minute nap before my next class?_

Translate runes in your head while going down the stairs to Potions class to avoid another panic attack.

Become increasingly annoyed with Harry for cheating at Potions.

Offer help to the first years with their homework.

Manage a smile for the first time that day, if only for a few seconds.

Pick at dinner while apologizing to the House-elves for not enjoying the wonderful meal they prepared.

_Was I supposed to do patrols tonight?_

Last ditch effort to get Ron and Harry to finish whatever assignments are due tomorrow while sitting in the common room.

Go to prefect’s bath. Fill the tub with enough lavender scented bubbles to knock out an erumpent.

Head back upstairs to Gryffindor Tower.

Set your alarm clock, try not to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Realize that sleep still won’t come, and spend the next few hours making sure you have everything finished to turn in tomorrow.

Collapse into your pillows.

Wake up.

Analyze latest nightmare…

***

Two weeks had passed since Hermione’s first day of class. The days had blended together, and if not for her calendar she would have had no idea that it was Saturday. Glancing at her book she realized that even her so called day off was packed.

She had promised Harry and Ron that she would go to watch Quidditch try outs. The amount of people who had signed up could make it last all day, and Hermione was determined to see all of her friends perform. Then tonight she had a Slug Club meeting.

_At least Mum and Dad will be happy to know I’m keeping busy and joining a real club this year._

Hermione glanced through her bed curtains towards the window. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. She glanced at her watch. 6:45 AM. She’d fallen asleep sometime around 2 AM.

_Wow, almost 5 hours. That’s more than double what I’ve been getting. Should be a good day then._

She almost laughed at her uncharacteristic optimism.

Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up. She decided that she could skip the cold shower this morning. She’d gotten more than enough sleep; her mind and her body were fully awake right now.

When she was done with her morning routine, she headed back to her bed. Harry had told her just about everyone in Gryffindor was trying out today. She grabbed a few books and shoved them into her bag. No need to waste the whole day if no one she knew was trying out at the moment.

Hermione started the long trek down the tower stairs towards the Great Hall for breakfast. She met up with her two best friends and began to discuss plans about visiting Hagrid. It was quickly decided that they would go and see him after tryouts were over.

_Wonderful._ She sighed with frustration into her breakfast plate. _No, don’t be like that Hermione. Hagrid is a wonderful person and he’s obviously hurting. It would do him good to see the three of you. You can squeeze in studying later, you got enough sleep last night, you can stay up a little later tonight._

Soon the owls were arriving with the morning post. Hermione’s copy of the _Daily Prophet_ had arrived, and she hesitantly unfolded it. Her reading was soon interrupted by the arrival of Hedwig and Pigwidgeon. The two owls were delivering Harry and Ron’s new copies of _Advanced Potion-Making._

“Oh good! Now you can give that graffitied copy back.” Hermione said with a smirk on her lips.

“Are you mad? I’m keeping it! Look, I’ve thought it out –” Harry brandished his wand across the table and cast a _Diffindo_.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide.

_He’s tearing a book apart. In front of me. He must want me to kill him._

Harry swapped the cover of the new book with that of the old one and repaired both of them.

“I’ll give Slughorn back the new one, he can’t complain, it cost nine Galleons,” Harry finished explaining his plan.

_Yep. He definitely wants me to kill him._

Hermione tucked back into her copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

More Dementor attacks.

Arrests of suspected Death Eaters.

More deaths. _Poor Hannah, her mother’s obituary hasn’t even made it into the paper yet._

Hermione pushed her hardly touched plate away from her. Another breakfast ruined by the news. She thought of all the students who had already been taken home by their parents. Hermione was glad her parents didn’t subscribe to _The Prophet._

It was hard enough convincing them to let her come back without all the news of the spreading war. Hermione felt her mind drifting.

_The Grangers had been notified on June 18 th that Hermione had been injured in an attack, but they would be unable to come and visit her. Muggles couldn’t step foot inside Hogwarts._

_Her parents had to wait two hellish weeks before they could see their precious daughter, and even then, it was only after picking her up from Kings Cross Station. She’d received a stiff hug from her father. Her mother was desperately trying to hold her tears back._

_Hermione could feel the anger radiating off her father. To say he was livid was an understatement._

_The entire drive back home her father white knuckled the steering wheel. The silence was punctuated by the absence of the radio. He always had the radio on to a football commentary when he drove. This was bad._

_Finally, they pulled into the drive. Her father stayed in the car when Hermione climbed out with her mother._

_“Give him a few minutes Sugar Bug. It’s been rough for us not being able to see you.” Her mother ran a hand through Hermione’s wild curls and headed inside._

_About an hour later she was summoned to join her parents downstairs. They were sitting side by side at the kitchen table. Her mother’s hand was placed upon her father’s. Hermione sat at the table across from her parents._

_He spoke first._

_“Hermione why do you want to go back to that school? Every year there’s some new way they think of to almost kill you. Your mother and I dread it every time we hear a pecking at the window because we just know it’s going to be Professor Dumbledore telling us that you’ve been petrified again. Or worse.”_

_“Dad, Hogwarts is where I belong. It’s like I’ve finally found my place in the world, and you’re asking me to give that up?”_

_“Your place is here, with your family –“ Her father brought his free hand up and placed it on his heart – “where we can keep you safe.”_

_She could see the tears forming in her mother’s eyes. This wasn’t fair. They had no right to ambush her like this._

_“I know you two want what’s best for me, but right now that’s Hogwarts. I can’t just pretend like that half of my life doesn’t exist anymore. It’s like you’re asking me to stop being me.”_

_Her father’s face became hard. There was a fire in his eyes, she’d stepped too far across the line. He was about to soar past it._

_“I’d rather you be miserable than dead, Hermione. If that makes me selfish then so be it. You mean more to your mother and me than you could ever know. I hope that one day when you grow up and have kids of your own, you’ll understand that.” Her father stood from his seat to end to conversation._

_Hermione wasn’t done yet._

_“If you won’t let me go back, then I’m leaving. My trunk is still packed. Right now, I’ll march upstairs, grab it and you’ll never see me again.” Hermione’s stare drilled into the wood grain of the table in front of her, refusing to make eye contact with the man towering over her._

_“Where would you go? You’re a minor, no one would be willing to harbor a runaway.”_

_Hermione had been prepared for this question. She’d been planning her answer before she’d stepped foot back inside her childhood home._

_Since she’d seen her father’s cold stare at the train station._

_“The second I step outside I’m going to call the Knight Bus and it will take me to The Leaky Cauldron. Once I step across the threshold of the pub you won’t be able to find me ever again. It repels Muggles. Remember? Ron’s brothers run a shop down there, I’m sure they’ll give me a job so I can rent a room there until I turn 17 in September._

_“Then I’ll be of age and I can make my own legal decisions. I’ll write to Professor Dumbledore and he’ll let me back into the school. I’ll have to use the Floo to get to Hogsmeade, but it’s only a short walk up to the castle from there. I’ll only have missed two and a half weeks of school. I’ll be caught back up in no time.” She lifted her head to stare down her father. “At the end of the school year I’ll be able to Apparate, that means I can go anywhere I want to. I won’t even need you two pick me up from the station.”_

_He turned and stormed out of the kitchen–_

The argument she’d had with her parents faded. That was back in the beginning of July, it was now halfway through September, and she hadn’t seen her parents since they’d escorted her to the Leaky Cauldron so she could Floo to The Burrow for the rest of the summer, barely a week after she’d come home from school.

Hermione knew her father was still upset with her. He didn’t respond to her letters like her mother did. That’s okay. She was still mad at him too. He didn’t have the right to ask her to deny her true self.

No matter how much Hermione question how much she truly belonged there.

Hermione glanced up from the newspaper. Harry and Ron were already making their way off the bench and across the Great Hall. She quickly got up to join them.

On their way out of the castle, they passed Parvarti talking with Lavender Brown. Hermione made a mental note to ask the girl what she and her sister had said to their parents to convince them let them stay at the school.

As they passed, Hermione noticed Lavender look up at Ron and smile.

Ron smiled back.

Hermione noticed the blush that crept up Lavender’s checks.

_Oh._

_Oh no._

_I’m going to have to listen to Lavender talk about Ron now. She’s going to stay up late giggling with Pavarti and it’s going to be about Ron._

She’d already had to endure this torture during fourth year when the two couldn’t stop talking about Viktor and Cedric and their “kissable lips”. Then in fifth year it was about how dreamy Firenze was. Now it was going to be Ron.

Hermione shuddered trying hard not to think about the different parts of her friend’s anatomy the two would be discussing late into the night. It seemed that what little sleep she had been getting would be tainted with their gossiping. She needed to learn better silencing spells. And fast.

When the trio was almost at the Quidditch pitch, she wanted to hug Ron for luck, but her arms hung limply at her side. She left him and Harry to climb up the stairs to the stands while the other two headed off to the changing rooms. Hermione tried to keep her breathing even. The stairs were numerous, but that wasn’t the problem.

She was thinking back to her dreams. If seeing, well not seeing, the Thestrals at the start of term were enough to set her off, then she had every right to suspect being in the stands would trigger another episode.

She didn’t have Ginny or Luna to help her if she had another one today. Hermione looked around the stands, they were nearly filled with everyone from Gryffindor, but when Harry called for all participants to the field, she was practically alone again.

Hermione watched a tall seventh year boy with broad shoulders stalk over to the stands from the field. If looks could kill, Hermione was certain someone would be dead already. She hoped it wasn’t Harry who this boy’s anger was directed at.

She briefly considered talking to him as a distraction, but his fierce gaze made her think better of it. Silence was fine. She didn’t need conversation to distract her mind from the fact that she was sitting in the location of one of her recurring nightmares. She looked up to watch Harry’s first group of students mount their brooms to demonstrate their flying abilities.

That was a bad idea.

Hermione was plagued with the sight of ten of her precious first years attempting to fly. Her eyes widened. Her heart started thumping in her chest. She couldn’t bear watching the themes of her nightmares collide in this way.

_Angry seventh year it is…_

“It’s McCormack, right?” Hermione asked loudly to grab his attention.

He scoffs. “Cormac actually—" he rolls his eyes “— _McLaggen_. I guess even sixth years can’t be bothered to remember me. Harry Potter certainly doesn’t seem to care, why should anyone else.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, taken aback. “It’s nice to properly meet you.” She hoped his anger wouldn’t be directed at her now. She didn’t need another emotional stressor right now.

“It’s whatever. You’re Potter’s friend, right?” He asked, finally turning to look at her.

“Hermione Granger,” she offers.

“Right, Granger. Anything I should know about Potter to improve my chances? It’s the least you can do since you got my name wrong.”

_You didn’t even know my name!_ She took a deep breath before answering. “Just do your best. Harry knows how to spot talent and he’ll make an unbiased decision.”

“Oh, then I’m a shoe in. Most of these kids don’t look like they’ve ever flown before. I saw the keeper from last year is on the try out roster today. Must have been terrible if Potter is making him try out again. I’m pretty sure I’ve got him beat.”

_He doesn’t even know Ron’s name. Who does this guy think he is?_

“Yea, he’s a Weasley isn’t he?” Hermione started, deciding to have some fun at Cormac’s expense. “He comes from a big family of Quidditch players. I think he could really do great things as Keeper this year.”

“I didn’t realize he was a Weasley.”

_How thick can this guy be?_

“I’m fairly certain he is, that’s his sister now trying out isn’t it?” Hermione didn’t even need to look to know that Ginny would be on the team. She’d spent the entire summer being pummeled by the redhead. Hermione felt bad for any keeper that had to stare down Ginny as she sped toward them on a broom.

“Yes, that one’s Ginny. I suppose that family had to be good at something, might as well be Quidditch. I had the pleasure of meeting her on the train ride up here this year. I was invited to join Professor Slughorn for a private luncheon.”

Hermione knew that he had been there. Ginny wouldn’t stop talking about how annoying he’d been. She thought Ginny had been exaggerating. Now Hermione knew better.

_You can put up with this git for a bit more. It’s almost time for the Keepers to try out, you can keep this up a little longer. It’s certainly better than the alternative._

“Oh, you’re a member of the Slug Club?” Hermione was feeling more confident feigning ignorance around Cormac. It seemed the less she knew, the more he was willing to educate her.

“At least Professor Slughorn recognizes talent. We’re having another meeting tonight. I’m quite looking forward to sharing with him that I’ve made the team.”

_I’ll bet you are. That’s it. Time to end this._

“I know. I’ll be attending tonight as well.” Hermione couldn’t help but grin at his confused face. “Better hurry, it looks like Harry’s ready for the Keepers.”

Cormac quickly got up and jogged to the pitch. The stands were now full of the people who hadn’t made the team, as well as many new spectators who must have trickled in while Hermione was distracted with her conversation.

_At least McLaggen’s good for a distraction._

Hermione watched as the three new Chasers lined up to test the hopeful Keepers. The first few were abysmal. Ron actually stood a chance.

Then it was Cormac’s turn. His broad shoulders and height were his advantage, he barely had to move his broom block the first three shots. On the fourth, he successfully performed the sideways block that Hermione had failed that summer. He didn’t even move when the ball hit him.

_Shit!_

_He’s actually good! There’s no way Harry would survive having to deal with him all year though, and Ron’s been working so hard._

Hermione had to act quickly. She knew she could be discreet. Everyone’s eyes were up near the goals. No one was watching her. She pulled her wand from her pocket and kept it low to her leg.

“ _Confundus_!”

***

_I shouldn’t be here._

In all the times Hermione had felt like she didn’t belong at Hogwarts, this one felt the most convincing.

She was alone. In a group of strangers. In the dungeons. Sitting next to Cormac McLaggen, who was still showing some signs of being Confunded.

_I really don’t belong here._

Across the circular table from her sat Professor Slughorn, a glass of something potent in his hand. Blaise Zabini sat on his left between the professor and Cormac. Melina Bobbin, who Hermione had never even heard of before, sat next on Slughorn’s right side putting her next to Hermione.

After a round of introductions, it became apparent why they were there. Slughorn never directly said it, but it was obvious with the way he was talking.

“Now, I know the lot of you are not regular friends, but I’m hoping that you’ll be able to forge alliances here. No one is able to conquer the world on their own, and I would love to be your champion. I hate to see talent squandered. With my connections, you’ll be able to jump through hoops with ease. I’m sure you’re all capable of creating your own paths, fueled by your own _ambition_ , isn’t that right Mr. Zabini?” Slughorn gave the Slytherin boy a pointed wink at his joke.

Zabini’s eyes looked unimpressed, he but faked a smile for his professor. If anyone knew how to out schmooze Slughorn, it would be a Slytherin. Slughorn took a long drink from his tumbler before starting again.

“But as I was saying, ambition alone isn’t enough. People with talent shouldn’t have to start on the ground floor. Those who have been gifted need those who have connections. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been able to help a former student reach above their means and secure for them a place that fits their abilities.”

Hermione looked around the table. During their introductions she had learned a little about her companions for the evening. Zabini had money. Bobbin had business connections through her family, and access to potions ingredients. McLaggen had the political affiliations. He was boasting about how he personally knew Minister Scrimgeour, or perhaps he’d said he knew Scourgify. It was hard to tell when he was still a little Confunded.

Hermione was a Muggle-born. Her parents were well off, but they always lost money with the Galleon exchange rate in Gringots. The only person she knew in government was Arthur Weasley and she knew that wasn’t enough to gain her points with Slughorn, even with his recent promotion. She’d even met Cornelius Fudge a few times, but now that he was disgraced, Slughorn would consider that a hinderance.

Then it hit her.

Like a raging Hippogriff, it kicked her in the chest.

She was best friends with Harry Potter. She was the most connected person in here. Slughorn only wanted her because she could get him to Harry. The realization made Hermione’s skin crawl. She desperately wanted to leave and take a bath to scrub away the feeling.

_I really don’t fucking belong here._

***

Hermione was mad at herself. She hadn’t gotten any of her studying done yesterday that she’d promised herself she would.

_I can read at Quidditch try outs._ She’d talked to Cormac the whole time.

_I’ll be able to work on my essays before dinner._ They’d spent too much time comforting Hagrid about Aragog.

_There will be plenty of time to practice non-verbal spells before Slug Club._ She’d discussion Harry’s conspiracy theories about Malfoy until it was time to go.

_I can even get ahead on some of my rune translations before bed._ She’d spent hours in the prefect bathroom scrubbing at her skin trying to remove the sickening feeling that followed her when she left the dungeons.

Not only had she not been able to get ahead, but now she was behind. Again. She’d wasted her whole Saturday. Now she had to play catch up.

Hermione hated falling behind.

She looked at her calendar for the day. September 15th. Today was not going to be kind to her either. She had a tradition to uphold, and she needed to get started on it early. Get it out of the way so she could move on to her neglected schoolwork.

Hermione reached under her four-poster bed for her book bag. She ruffled around for a clean piece of parchment, a quill and ink. She lamented not having bought a self-inking quill from Fred and George’s shop.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_It’s September 15 th. That means it’s almost my birthday! You know the drill by now. I’ve instructed the owl to wait for your reply with my present. I hope you don’t make him wait too long. I hear the owls this year aren’t as patient as they have been in the past. _

_Only teasing!_

_Before I forget, I do need some Muggle necessities. I’m almost out of cold cream and toothpaste. I’m good on everything else for the next month or so. Oh! Can you find me that lip balm that you’re always recommending to your patients? My lips have been a nightmare this year with all the extra Potions classes._

Hermione didn’t feel the need to mention that she’d been the one picking at her lips until they bled. Sure, she mostly picked at them during Potions class, it didn’t feel like too much of a lie.

_Yesterday was the Quidditch try outs. I think Harry really put a good team together this year. You will both be proud to know that I am not on it. Hopefully, my days of playing pick-up Quidditch games are long behind me. Ron and Ginny both made the team, and I couldn’t be happier for them._

_Mum I know you wanted details about Herbology, but so far, it’s been a rather uneventful class._

She did not want to mention what happened with Hannah Abbot during Herbology to her parents.

_I did ask Professor Sprout what to do about your dying orchid that you keep in the waiting room. She said make sure the soil is draining well and keep it out of direct sunlight._

_I hope that helps._

_You and Dad will be happy to know that I attended a club meeting last night. And before Dad asks, no it wasn’t ‘study club’. This is a group that my Potions Professor has put together to help what he calls the ‘talented and connected’._

_I think he just wants to take all the credit when his former students do something amazing. Like he was the guiding force in their career decisions. Honestly, it made me feel a little gross, like he was grooming us for his purposes._

_In your last letter, Mum you couldn’t stop gushing about how wonderful you think your present will be. I’ll have to let you know if it lives up to the hype that you’ve created for it. If not, I will be truly disappointed, and my birthday will be ruined._

_Again, only teasing…_

_Please let Dad know that even though I will be legal in the wizarding world, I will still be coming home for Christmas and I would love it if the two of you would be there to pick me up. I know he’s still upset with me about this summer. Please tell him I’m sorry._

_Dad, if you’re reading this, I’m so very sorry that I hurt you. I know you were trying to look out for me, and even though I don’t agree with your methods I know your heart was in the right place._

_I’m not sorry for what I did, but I’m sorry for how I said it. I’m never going to leave magic and Hogwarts behind, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave the two of you behind._

_I love you both,_

_Hermione._

_P.S. Yes, I’m still your Sugar Bug._

Hermione waited a few minutes for the wet ink to dry. She never bothered with drying spells, the magic always seemed to smear the ink, and it seemed like no one ever bother to use a blotter, so she wasn’t going to be the weirdo to start doing that.

_Hmm, now there’s an idea. Quick drying ink. I’ll have to see if Fred and George are already working on that one._

With her ink now dry, Hermione left the safety of her bed curtains. She glanced out the window to see that the sun was barely cresting the top of the Forbidden Forest. Since it was Sunday, her dormmates were still sleeping soundly.

She crept quietly across the room and out the door. There was a good chance the Owlery would be empty this early, and she wanted to get this sent off to her parents as quickly as possible. Hopefully, the owl that was nice to her parents was still available.

As Hermione descended the staircase of Gryffindor Tower, her footsteps echoed around her in the empty corridor. The rhythmic sounds of her trainers against the stone floor was a welcome calming presence. Calm was a good thing these days.

Hermione felt like she was on the verge of tears constantly since her episode in Potions class. She had always been so good at bottling up her emotions. When you’re busy trying to learn everything about magic before it goes away, there’s no time for silly things like feelings.

There were a few people who’d she let see her bottles open: Mum, Dad, Harry, and Ron. These were the trusted few who had a key to the cellar in her head or her heart or wherever one keeps their emotions.

But things were different now.

Since she had woken up in the Hospital Wing all those months ago, she could tell: her bottles were broken. Even now, things kept bubbling up to the surface, unbidden. Harry and Ron were no longer the only ones who got to see her emotional. The list now included Ginny, Luna, Neville, and even Fleur; they had all seen inside her cellar with the smashed bottles.

Hermione focused on the sound of her feet. Willing her body and mind to uncoil. Before she knew it, she was at the Owlery.

When she reached the top of the stairs her eyes searched for the only white bird. She called for Hedwig who dutifully came to the perch nearest her.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t for you to carry. I wouldn’t use you without asking Harry first. I need you to find me the nicest owl here, other than you, of course. They’re going to my parents, so I need them to be comfortable around Muggles. Can you do that for me?”

Hedwig hooted softly and flew into the rafters to begin her quest.

“That’s very sweet of her—” Hermione whirled around at the voice coming from across the Owlery – “I didn’t think that someone’s owl would listen to another witch or wizard.” Ginny stepped into Hermione’s view with Pigwidgeon sitting on her shoulder.

“God! Ginny you almost gave me a heart attack,” Hermione admonished while clutching at her chest to emphasize her point. The two girls giggled. “Hedwig takes after Harry; she can’t say no to someone when they ask for help. Plus, she knows I have treats waiting for her.”

“Of course, you have owl treats. You’re sending your parents a letter? Things going better between you guys?” Ginny questioned.

“A little bit. Mum has forgiven me, but I don’t think Dad is there yet. I’m gonna keep trying though. Gotta wear him down eventually. Plus, this letter is a tradition. I always send them an owl a few days before my birthday so they can send it back with my present. We figured out a system my first year.”

“Oh, it’s your birthday coming up?” Ginny mocked surprise. The redhead quickly tied her letter to Pigwidgeon’s leg and sent him off.

“I’ll even be legal this time. Shame I couldn’t have turned 17 this summer. I might have stood a chance against you at Quidditch if I could hex you.” The two girls laughed.

“Speaking of Quidditch,” Ginny began, “was that Cormac McLaggen I saw you talking to yesterday at try outs?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ve officially had the pleasure of making his acquaintance. He’s an absolute prat! He was so sure he was going to get the Keeper position, but he didn’t even bother trying out last year.”

“Oh he was going to try out last year. But when Fred found out that Ron wanted the spot, he bet McLaggen that he couldn’t eat Doxy eggs without throwing up. Fred actually lost the bed, but McLaggen did have to spend the whole week in the Hospital Wing.”

_How very interesting._

Hedwig took this moment to make her reappearance with the large horned owl she deemed the nicest to Muggles. Ginny took this moment to start her way out of the Owlery.

“Thank you very much Hedwig.” Hermione fished into her pocket for a treat for the bird. “I’ll see you down at breakfast Ginny.”

“Yeah see you!” The redhead called from down the staircase.

Hermione scratched the new bird on the side of its face. “I have a very special mission for you. You’re going to go see my parents. They’re Muggles so please be patient with them. You might have to wait a little while for them to send a reply back with you, and it’ll probably be a package. They’re very sweet people and they have a bowl of treats by the window for you, you can help yourself. It is imperative that you get the package to me on the morning of the 19th. Do you understand?”

The owl hooted twice. Hermione gave it a treat.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The bird made an angry sound and bristled its feathers to make itself look intimidating.

“Oh! My apologies, thank you sir! Here, have another treat.”

Now that his feathers were unruffled, the owl let Hermione tie her letter to his leg, and away he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! I hope everyone is safe out there and wearing a mask and washing your hands.   
> Feel free to drop by my tumblr and say hi @teacher-with-bad-handwriting


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!!  
> It's my birthday today, so I wanted to share the chapter where Hermione gets to celebrate her birthday!!!!  
> But seriously, back to our regularly scheduled updates after this lol (12/12/20)

Hermione woke up at her usual predawn time on the morning of her 17th birthday. There was no nightmare that had sent her running from unconsciousness. There was a lightness in her heart, like a child on Christmas morning who was too excited to continue sleeping.

She woke with a smile on her face.

She sat up in her four-poster and checked her watch. It was still too early to be out of bed, but Hermione grabbed a change of clothes and her toiletries bag anyway.

_I’m 17 today, I’m an adult now. What are they going to do, give an adult a detention for not being in bed?_

Hermione smiled to herself at the absurd thought. She forewent her usual cold, morning shower and headed to the prefects’ bath. A special day deserved a special start after all. As she headed out of her dormitory, she gathered her thoughts.

_I’m am speaking it into existence. Today will be a good day. I will get to hear from my parents. My friends will be giving me gifts and it would be rude to look sad. I will not be reading the Daily Prophet under any circumstances today. There is no news so important that it can’t wait another day for me to worry about it. _

As she reached the door that concealed the bathroom, she spoke the password and slipped inside. Hermione examined the different taps that surrounded the tub. She had never spent much time looking and the different bubbles and scents available to her, she usually just stuck with lavender to help her get to sleep.

Hermione decided on a coconut scent that reminded her of the shampoo her mother used. A small reminder of home on this special day. When the tub was filled, she slid inside, determined to shut her brain off for a little while.

She floated for what seemed like hours, focusing on the happiest memories she could conjure. The trip to France with her parents. Her first visit to Diagon Alley. Getting her Hogwarts letter. Opening her first Weasley sweater on Christmas.

All too soon it was time to get out of the warm water and face the day. She pulled herself out of the tub and set to work completing her morning routine. Finally finished, Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I can do this.” She smiled at her reflection, it seemed almost genuine. “I deserve to be happy,” she added before heading out of the bathroom and back up to Gryffindor Tower to put her things away.

Finally, Hermione was able to make her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Her fellow Gryffindors were surprisingly quiet towards her on her way through the castle. When she entered the Great all, she quickly found an empty seat at one of the benches near her friends.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

No one acknowledged her presence.

Harry was busy reading his Potions book, again. Ron kept himself occupied with shoveling eggs and sausage onto his plate. Ginny was brushing Arnold the pigmy puff while chatting with a girl sitting next to her. Even Neville was preoccupied with the latest plant he was growing in his spare time.

_They forgot._

Her heart plummeted.

_How could they have not remembered? Today was supposed to be my special day!_

Hermione quickly stood up from the bench. She had lost her appetite and needed to be alone. Tears stung her eyes and she wanted to be far away from everyone before they started to fall. As she turned to walk away, a hand grabbed her wrist.

She was spun around and faced a pair of blue eyes. Hermione blinked a couple times to clear the tears away. Ron swam into focus.

“Hermione, did you really think we’d forgotten?” He pulled her into a close hug. “We were waiting for the owls to arrive so your parents could be the first to wish you happy birthday.”

She didn’t even try to stop the tears. Her arms wrapped around Ron and held him tight.

“You can’t do that to me,” she forced out between sobs. “You know that this hasn’t been an easy year for me.” She stopped herself before she divulged how bad it had gotten.

“I’m sorry Hermione,” came Harry’s voice from across the table. “It was my idea. Ginny said it was a terrible idea, but I convinced them to go along with it.”

“It’s okay,” Hermione dragged her sleeve across her eyes to dry her tears. “Just don’t ever do something like that ever again. I think I was close to hexing all of you.”

Nervous laughter spread through the group. Hermione let go of Ron and resumed her seat at the table. She stared at the food around her. Her appetite would apparently not be returning. 

“Well since Harry’s idea was terrible and no one ever listens to me—” Ginny slid a wrapped package across the table towards Hermione, “–I say we get started with our presents before the owls arrive.”

Hermione smiled at her friend. Leave it to Ginny to get the ball rolling again. She quickly ripped the paper off the box and opened it up. She gasped when she saw the bounty of sweets that lie inside.

“I promise that none of it is from Fred and George’s shop. It’s all from Honeydukes, and you can enjoy it without worrying about throwing up, getting a bloody nose, or turning into a canary. I know this is going to be a difficult year for you with classes, though I figured you’d need something to stress eat.”

“Oh, Ginny, it’s perfect. Hopefully, I won’t have to break into it too soon.” Hermione eyed the sweets and plucked out a small chocolate and then closed the lid.

Now that her appetite had decided to return, Hermione grabbed some scrambled eggs from the platter in front of her. She managed to take a few bites before anyone said anything.

“Do you want us to keep going or wait until you’re done eating?” Harry asked.

“We can keep going. I’ll try not to pull a Ron and talk with my mouth full though.” She had to dodge a playful shove from Ron next to her. “Okay, who’s next?”

“After that comment, I don’t know if I want to give you my present.” Ron teased, but he handed over a something wrapped in an old copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione giggled at Ron’s attempt at wrapping whatever it was that he’d bought her. Ron dramatically rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. She carefully unrolled the newsprint that was concealing her present.

Two thin metal sticks rolled out of the paper and into her hand. At firsts, Hermione thought they were chopsticks, or pins to hold her hair in a bun. She looked quizzically at Ron for help.

“They’re knitting needles,” he clarified. “I asked Mum what kind she uses, and she recommended this pair. They’re short right now, but they have a special enchantment on them to where you can change their size to fit the project you’re working on.”

Hermione fiddled with the two sticks and managed to make them longer and even changed their width a few times.

“Oh, thank you Ron! These are perfect! Only remember that you gave me these when you’re complaining about the new scarf I’m going to make you for Christmas.”

The friends laughed at her joke. She turned to Ron and gave him a quick hug. Breathing became easier for Hermione, she hadn’t realized she was still taking shallow breaths.

“Alright, alright. Me next.” Harry said while handing over what appeared to be a shoe box. “I didn’t have any wrapping paper, so I found a box to put it in. But at least it’s still better than wrapping it in newspaper.”

Ron jutted his first two fingers up at Harry from across the table and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“To be fair,” Ginny started to defend her brother, “my gift was wrapped in an old copy of the _Prophet_ , but I transfigured it into something cuter. You know, because we have magic!”

Harry and Ron both groaned at their own stupidity. Hermione chuckled as she pulled the box closer to her and took off the lid. Inside sat a quill and an ink pot.

She carefully picked up the ink pot and quirked her eyebrow when she found the gold WWW logo on the side of it.

“I know what you’re thinking Hermione,” Harry started. “It’s from Fred and George’s shop, but it’s not one of their prank items. It’s a self-inking quill. George told me that as long as there is ink in the pot, you don’t need to dip the quill. When the pot’s empty all you have to do is refill it. They don’t even have to be in the same room for it to work.”

Hermine gasped when her Harry’s words made it to her ears. Her brain had stopped working when she saw the WWW and was trying to work out the counter jinxes necessary to use it without ending up with ink squirted in her face or something.

“I was looking at these when we stopped into their shop. I was going to buy myself one, but I didn’t have enough money. Harry, how did you know?”

“I didn’t. When I was getting a tour of the shop, Fred—ow!” Harry jerked away from Ginny sitting next to him. “What was that for?”

“Look!” Ginny pointed to the windows trying to change the subject, “the post is here!”

The three turned to follow Ginny’s hand, and sure enough the open windows of the Great Hall began filling with owls of all shapes and sizes. Five owls broke off from the rest of the pack and headed towards Hermione and her friends.

The first one carried Hermione’s copy of the _Daily Prophet._ She _Evanescoed_ it before her eyes even had a chance to glace at the headlines. Her friends nodded approvingly.

Next was Errol and another bird that Hermione did not recognize. Errol landed, or rather fell with a thud on the table. Hermione quickly untied the letter from his leg so he could rest properly. The owl that arrived with Errol had a package that she accepted, and the bird took off once again.

Hermione set her mail aside to assist the last two owls. The last two she recognized. One was the horned owl she had sent to her parents, their package now deposited at the table. The last was Pigwidgeon.

“Pig!” Ron exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

The small owl held his leg out obediently and waited for Hermione to gather the lumpy envelope from him. Pig then flew over to Ron and nibbled at what was left on his plate. Ron shooed him away while Hermione turned the mystery envelope over.

It was sealed with gold wax and stamped with WWW.

Her eyes widened in surprise.

Not wanting to open the letter that obviously came from the twins first, Hermione decided to start in the order her mail had arrived. Harry, Ron, and Ginny leaned in while she opened the letter that the still sleeping Errol had delivered.

“It’s from your mum,” Hermione informed them recognizing Mrs. Weasley’s handwriting. She quickly read the letter to herself.

_Hermione,_

_First off, Happy Birthday. Secondly, I’m sorry. Fleur overheard me talking with Arthur that your birthday was coming up and she insisted on getting you something. I have no idea what she could possibly think you’d be interested in, but if you need to, you can send it back to me and I’ll exchange it for something else for you. I hope Errol reaches you before her package does._

_Molly Weasley_

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, but she resisted, because she knew that Mrs. Weasley meant well. She handed the letter off to Ron who read it and passed it around the group.

Ginny scoffed when it was her turn to read it. Hermione reached for the package that must be from Fleur and opened it. There was a letter inside. Fleur’s beautiful script flowed across the page. She might have trouble speaking English, but she could write it fairly well.

_Hermione,_

_Bill’s mother let me know you’re turning 17! This is such a special day, as now you are a woman. Now, just because you have come of age, does not mean the world is your responsibility._

_You are still young; you need to enjoy yourself. You still have to take care of you. You are of no use to anyone if you can’t take care of yourself._

_Bill said you are very interested in reading, and I remember you and Viktor talking about the importance of international friendships. I think I found the perfect gift for you. I had to call some favors to find a copy of it in English, so I hope you like it._

_I want you to know, if you ever need anything, you can write to me and I will do my best to help. I consider you my sister, just as I do Ginny._

_Happy Birthday,_

_Fleur Delacour (Soon to be Weasley)_

Hermione smiled as she finished reading Fleur’s letter. She had to take several deep breaths to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes. She looked to her friends who were waiting expectantly to hear what was written on the page.

Hermione didn’t share this one with them.

She carefully tucked the letter into her book bag. Hermione put a reassuring smile on her face for her friends. The last thing she needed was for them to think that Fleur had insulted her somehow.

“It was a very sweet letter, but it’s a little personal so I don’t want to share it.” She clarified to the group.

Hermione carefully reached for the package that accompanied the letter from Fleur. She pulled the brown paper and twine from it to reveal a book. The cover was adorned with a drawing of a large carriage being flown by several Abraxan horses. The title was embossed in swooping gold letters: _The Historical Significance of The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic._

She ran her fingers across the cover feeling the raised letters.

Hermione would not be returning this present.

She rewrapped it, so as not to get any breakfast mess on the beautiful artwork that adorned the cover.

“Are you going to send it to Mum so she can return it?” Ginny asked eyeing the way Hermione set the book aside.

Hermione could only shake her head no. She gave herself a few heartbeats to calm down before she moved on to the present from her parents.

“Aww, I was hoping you’d open the one from Fred and George next. I wanted to know why Pig delivered it.” Ron voiced his disappointment.

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for it, but I want to see what my mum got me. She’s been hinting at it for a while now and I’m too curious to wait any longer.”

The box sat in front of Hermione. Her hands were shaking, she couldn’t quite figure out why. Once she had removing the coverings and twine, she took off the lid. Inside were all the toiletries she had asked for, including the lip balm, and two envelopes.

One envelope was blank, and obviously contained whatever it was that her parents had gotten her. The other was addressed to Sugar Bug.

It was her father’s handwriting.

_Oh, this will be interesting._

She decided to bite the bullet and read her father’s letter first.

_Dear Sugar Bug,_

_Thank you for keeping us informed about what you’re doing at school. After last year, I no longer take kindly to surprises._

_I’m glad to hear that you are supporting your friends even though Quidditch isn’t something that you personally enjoy. Please tell them congrats for making the team for me._

“My dad says congrats on making the Quidditch team.” She quickly went back to reading. A murmur of ‘thanks’ came from them as they returned to their breakfasts.

_At university, I also had a professor that sounds like your Potions Professor. He liked to ‘help out’ students, but without him, I wouldn’t have been able to intern with the practice that I did. Since you plan on living in the magical world when you’re done with school, it might make sense to attend a few more meetings with his group so you can make connections._

_But that’s only if you’re up to it. If they make you uncomfortable, trust your gut._

Hermione knew this was as close to an “I’m sorry” as she was going to get from her father. He was encouraging her to make plans for a future in the magical world. It was good enough for her.

_I know that you’re legally an adult now in that world, but you’ll always be my little Sugar Bug, even if your mum stole my nickname for you._

_Happy Birthday,_

_Dad_

_P.S. Mum wants me to remind you that your present was all her idea and I’m not supposed to take any credit for it, even though I’m the one who fight a mob to get it._

Hermione smiled. She felt a tension unwind from her shoulders. She hadn’t realized she’d been carrying that weight with her all summer. She knew that their relationship was far from back to normal, but it was a start.

The other envelope beckoned her. She plucked it from the box. Hermione quickly broke the seal and pulled out 3 strips of paper.

Tickets.

To Les Misérables.

At the Queen’s Theatre.

Over Christmas Holiday.

She clutched the tickets to her chest.

_Mum you have truly outdone yourself this time._

Finally, all that was left was the mystery envelope from Fred and George. She tucked the tickets back in the box from her parents and slowly reached for the remaining letter that sat in front of Ron.

Hermione broke the wax seal on the back and pulled out the letter and a glass bottle full of an amber liquid. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think they must have sent her firewhiskey.

She opened the letter and read the scrawled writing.

_Oi Hermione!_

_A little birdy told us (literally! It was Pigwidgeon, Ginny sent him) that it’s your birthday today (or at least it will be by the time Pig delivers this)! Welcome to adulthood, I know my brother and Harry have not made it an easy task surviving this long!_

_I hope you got all your trouble making out of your system, because now it’s gonna be straight off to Azkaban every time you mouth off to a professor._

_Now normally it’s tradition to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age, but I don’t know if that tradition applies to witches too or not. I should probably find that out before Ginny turns 17…_

_Anyway, I decided that since I didn’t know the magical custom, I would research the Muggle customs. According to my research Muggles aren’t considered adults until they’re 18, but the tradition is to buy them their first legal drink on their birthday._

_It occurs to me now that my source for Muggle traditions might have been fucking with me. Hopefully, that isn’t the case, and this will seem like a very thoughtful gift either way._

_Now, I would never ask notoriously strict Prefect Hermione Granger to break the rules at the prestigious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Therefore, I am not sending you a shot of firewhiskey like I had originally planned. _

_Instead, I decided to send you the free Daydream Charm (wink, wink) I promised you when you visited the shop. I noticed that you didn’t take it with you when you left._

_Hope you don’t study too hard today,_

_Fred Weasley (better looking twin)_

_Co-Founder Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_

_Brains of the operation_

_Oh, and George- the other one_

Hermione blinked and read the letter again. When she had finished, she looked across the table to Ginny. The redhead was trying very hard to appear interested in her pumpkin juice.

“So, what’s it say?” Ron asked between mouthfuls of toast.

“It appears that Ginny wrote to Fred and George to let them know that it was my birthday today.” Hermione informed them.

“Well after the telescope, it seemed like they owed you one. I know _they_ —“ the way Ginny emphasized the word seemed odd to Hermione, “—were wanting to make it up to you, so I told them. Sorry I didn’t ask before I sent off Pig.”

Ron and Ginny dissolved into arguing the way only siblings could. Hermione rolled her eyes and looked at Harry who was chuckling to himself.

“So, what did they get you?” he asked.

“At first, I thought it was firewhiskey, but there’s no way they would have been able to get that through all the extra auror security. Now that I’ve read the letter though, there’s no doubt in my mind that they have sent me a shot of firewhiskey.” Hermione held the small bottle up to examine it further.

“Well if anyone could smuggle something into Hogwarts, it would be those two,” Harry said. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. Maybe I’ll just save it for a rainy day.” She stuffed the letter from the twins into her bag and pulled out fresh sheets of parchment and her new quill from Harry.

“Please tell me you’re not about to write a Pros and Cons list for taking a shot of firewhiskey!” Ron grumbled, finishing up his argument with his sister.

“No, I’m just getting started on my thank you note to your mother and Fleur.” Hermione’s response was met with groans from her friends.

***

Hermione sat at the kitchen table. The wooden chair was cutting into her thighs from sitting too long. Piles of parchment were scattered across the table in front of her.

She could barely make out the words on the pages. The quill in her hand felt leaden and she dropped it on whatever stack was in front of her. She pushed back from the table and stood, her legs tingling as blood rushed back into them.

She walked down the hallway that lead to the sitting room. The frames on the wall that used to hold pictures of the Grangers on their holidays were now filled with people that Hermione didn’t recognize. The hallway seemed to stretch on, there were no picture frames anymore.

The further she went the walls were covered in headlines from the _Daily Prophet_. Death tolls, disappearances and attacks on muggle families stared back at her as she made her way through. Faces of the deceased followed her.

Finally, she crossed the threshold into the sitting room where her parents were waiting for her on the sofa. Hermione walked over and hugged them both. She sat on the coffee table in front of them.

“Mother, Father, thank you for giving me your blessing to stay in the magical world. With the war coming up, it’ll be much safer if I stay with my own kind. I’m sure you understand. It’ll be easier for everyone this way.”

She pulled out her wand.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!”

Hermione woke clutching her chest with one hand. Her wand was in the other. She quickly threw it across her bed wanting nothing to do with it. Long curls matted against her neck and face with sweat.

She forced herself to take several long breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. Slowly her racing heart returned to its normal tempo. Hermione picked up her watch to see the time.

_1:45 AM. Might as well get up for the day._

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up and headed to the lavatory in their dorm room. She undressed and stood beneath one of the cold metal shower heads. Her arms worked on autopilot and turned the tap to blast cold water over her.

When the frigid spray hit her, her legs buckled. Her arms didn’t reach out to slow her descent. She fell to her knees but didn’t stop falling. Hermione laid out across the cold tile floor, her hair shielding her face from the cold water.

She cried.

Her hot tears were the only warmth she felt, so she let them fall. Soon even that small comfort abandoned her, and she was alone with the cold shower once again.

Hermione lost track of how long she laid there. When she heard the telltale sounds of the other girls getting up, she peeled herself off the floor. Her body crisscrossed with the imprint of the tiles.

She wrapped herself in a towel and shuffled over to the mirrors on the other side of the bathroom. Her blue tinged lips and red puffy eyes made her look almost inhuman.

She’d been an adult for little over 24 hours and was already cracking.

“I’m still here. I’m still fighting… but what’s the fucking point?”

***

Hermione grew tired of watching herself kill her parents. Each night a new iteration met her when she closed her eyes. After the third night, Hermione decided that she would do much better with only getting 15 minutes naps throughout the day to avoid REM sleep.

No REM sleep, no nightmares. It seemed simple enough.

She’d read about it in a book somewhere, but right now she couldn’t remember where or why she read it.

Monday morning, she put her new plan into action.

At midnight she went to bed and set an alarm for 15 minutes. She closed her eyes and then jolted awake when her alarm went off.

 _Surely it couldn’t have been 15 minutes already?_ She checked her watch 12:16 AM. _Damn._

She read her Ancient Runes texts for a few hours and worked on a few of her translation assignments. When four in the morning rolled around, she set her alarm again. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillows

She woke 15 minutes later with her alarm.

_Time to work on Transfiguration._

She took another nap just before she left the dorm for breakfast.

She convinced Harry and Ron that she needed to go grab one of her textbooks from her trunk while they were on break after Defense Against the Dark Arts, but it was another quick sleep.

Lunch seemed to be too short.

Her mind was fuzzy in Potions class. She didn’t even notice Harry cheating with his stupid book.

She needed to get ready for Herbology.

_But wait, Herbology is on Tuesdays. Is today still Monday?_

_Am I supposed to be sleeping right now?_

_Did Professor Vector assign a reading today?_

_What did I have for breakfast?_

_Did I even have breakfast today?_

_I think I had breakfast yesterday, or was that on Wednesday?_

_Wait what’s today?_

“Hermione!”

She blinked her eyes a few times. She looked around. She was sitting at one of the tables in the Common Room.

_When did I get here?_

Hermione looked around. Next to her sat Ginny with a concerned look on her face. She looked down at whatever it was she was supposedly working on. A blank sheet of parchment stared back at her, there were deep gouges in the paper.

She looked back up at Ginny.

“You’ve been scratching at that page for 20 minutes now. I think your inkwell is dry. I was waiting for you to notice, but you just kept writing like nothing was wrong.” Ginny reached out to still Hermione’s hand that was still trying to write on the empty page.

Hermione dropped her quill and examined the page more clearly, eyeing the deep scratches.

“I think I was trying to write about the effects of the _Imperius_ curse. Professor Snape said it is due Thursday.”

“It’s Friday Hermione,” Ginny whispered.

Hermione’s eyes grew wide in shock.

“No, it’s only Wednesday. You’re joking with me.” Hermione’s disbelief was evident on her face.

Ginny grabbed a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and pushed it toward her.

Friday 27 September 1996.

_No. No that can’t be right._

“Hermione, are you okay?” Ginny turned them both to face each other.

A weak “no” was all Hermione could manage.

“Let’s get you upstairs.”

Hermione nodded and followed after her. Ginny guided her down to her bed and sat next to her.

“What’s going on, Hermione?”

She didn’t know where to start. Could she tell her friend that she was driving herself insane to avoid nightmares? Would Ginny even understand?

“I haven’t been sleeping.” Hermione admitted in the end.

“Why?”

Hermione didn’t say anything. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Ginny didn’t blink.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. I know we’re not as close as you and Harry and Ron, but if there’s ever anything you can’t go to them with, you can talk to me.” Ginny reached out and placed her hand on top of Hermione’s.

“Thank you. That means the world to me. It truly does.”

Rain started to hit the windowpanes. Both girls looked up as lightning flashed and illuminated the room.

“You should get some rest.” Ginny patted Hermione’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Hermione smiled weakly at her friend as Ginny got up to leave. When she was gone Hermione rummaged through her trunk until she found the small bottle of firewhiskey.

Ginny was right. She needed sleep. If she was going to avoid the nightmares, there was still one way to do it.

_One shot isn’t going to be enough to accomplish what you want. According to Gamp’s Law, if you have it, you can enlarge it._

_“Engorgio!”_

The bottle grew in her hand. The amount of firewhiskey increased with it. She took one last look out the window, watching the drops cascade down the glass.

She drained the whole bottle, numb to the burning of her throat as it went down. She laid out on the sheets to wait for it to kick in.

“For a rainy day indeed.” And she was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so we finally got to hear from Fred again! but then things got worse. Like I said, it's gonna be darkest before the dawn!!!!


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione woke to a thudding behind her eyes. She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were heavy and wouldn’t respond. She rolled onto her side and felt the world shift and spin with her. Hermione groaned and lifted her hands to her head to try and still the spinning.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

She couldn’t place the voice. Everything sounded too loud but was muffled like she had cotton stuffed in her ears. Hermione lowered her hands to her eyes, to rub away the sleep that sealed them shut.

When she was able to finally open them, she was greeted with the intensity of the sun, and a flash of red hair. Hermione quickly snapped her eyes shut again.

“Whatimesit?” Hermione’s felt like she’d eaten a Ton-Tongue-Toffee.

“It’s almost noon. Which means you’ve been asleep for about 14 hours. Care to explain why you smell like the Hog’s Head right now?” Ginny questioned from atop Lavender’s bed.

“Too loud!” Hermione reached behind her for a pillow. When she found one, she held it in place over her head. It helped slightly.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake! You’re being impossible!” Ginny got off the bed and went to Hermione’s trunk.

She fished around until she found the box of sweets she’d given Hermione for her birthday. Ginny returned to the bed and snatched away Hermione’s pillow.

“Open your mouth.” Ginny commanded.

Hermione could hear Ginny’s stern voice through the fog in her head. She opened her eyes and saw a suspicious black bag in the other girl’s hand. As her eyes traveled further up, she was met the determined look on Ginny’s face that was usually reserved for the Quidditch pitch. Fearing for her life, Hermione did as she was told.

Ginny shoved three of the candies from the bag into Hermione’s mouth. Instantly, Hermione’s tongue felt like it was on fire. She bolted up in the bed to spit out whatever it was that Ginny had given her, but as soon as she opened her mouth, actual flames shot out instead.

Hermione quickly chewed and swallowed the candy, hoping to end the spell. When her tongue had stopped burning, it no longer felt thick and sluggish. Hermione reached up to her ears to find out why they felt different. Her hands came away covered in soot, but the volume in the room had returned to a normal level.

Hermione felt fine. She looked over at Ginny and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Pepper Imps.” Ginny indicated to what was written on the black bag still in her hand. “Mum would always give them to us when we were sick because they’re cheaper than Pepper Up Potions. Bill and Charlie eventually found out they work great on hangovers too.”

It was quiet for a few moments after that. Ginny eyed Hermione, waiting for the other girl to confess about her strange behavior. Finally, she could wait no longer.

“You. Talk. Now. Why couldn’t you remember what day it was yesterday, and why did I find you sloshed this morning? What’s going on with you Hermione? I’m starting to get really worried.”

Ginny got up and joined Hermione on her own bed. She reached out and laid a gentle hand on Hermione’s leg. Hermione could feel the calluses on Ginny’s hands from years of broom riding. Hermione envied Ginny’s determination, to go out and get whatever it was she wanted.

“I’m not strong like you.” Was all Hermione could say in her defense.

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re so strong, it’s like nothing ever shakes you. I’m over here crumbling to dust and it’s like nothing happened to you, or Harry, or Ron or even Neville! That stupid hat made a mistake. I don’t belong in Gryffindor I’m not brave, not anymore.”

“Hermione, what are you talking about?” Confusion still apparent on Ginny’s face.

“THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES!” Hermione shouted. She jumped to her feet and started pacing between the beds. “It’s like it never happened. The rest of you go on like everything is fine and I’m holding on by a thread.

“I have to fight off panic attacks whenever I go down to Potions class because it’s underground. Every time we practice nonverbal spells, I have to remind myself that there isn’t a Death Eater standing in front of me trying to kill me. Whenever I close my eyes, I’m haunted by nightmares. I can’t even sleep anymore!”

Hermione couldn’t stop now that she’d started. She told Ginny about all the nightmares she’d had since she woke up in the Hospital Ward back in June. She told Ginny about the fight she had with her parents. About the conversations she had with Fleur.

Everything.

Eventually, Hermione ran out of steam and sat back down on the bed next to Ginny.

“And after you left last night, I took the firewhiskey the twins sent me and enlarged it. I drank myself to sleep so I wouldn’t have to worry about nightmares.”

“You know you can’t do that again, right? If someone else had found you, you’d be in real trouble.”

“I know,” Hermione croaked, her voice strained from her venting. She felt a pair of arms wrap around her.

“I wish you would have come to me. You aren’t alone in this.” Ginny whispered into Hermione’s hair.

“It certainly feels like I am. I feel like I have to stay strong for Harry and Ron. But Ron doesn’t even remember that night, and Harry… Harry acts like nothing happened. It’s like his world didn’t end that night.”

“That’s because it didn’t.”

Ginny pulled away from Hermione so she could look her in the eyes. It was Hermione’s turn to stare on dumbfounded while Ginny ranted.

“Sirius died yes, but Harry’s world has always been so much more than just his godfather. You’re one of his best friends Hermione. You’re part of his world too. He does need you, but he doesn’t need you to kill yourself trying to make him happy. I can’t believe I’m about to say it, but I agree with Fleur: you have to take care of yourself.”

“I don’t know if I remember how to do that anymore,” Hermione admitted, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

The two girls let the silence hang in the air. Ginny sighed, deflating in the process. She took a deep breath in, straightened up again and put her hands on her hips.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out. None of you gave up on me when I had Voldemort rattling around in my head, and I’m not going to let you give up either.”

Hermione gave her a weak smile. Ginny’s enthusiasm was slowly wearing down Hermione’s wall.

“Thank you, Ginny. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner. I honestly didn’t think anyone was noticing how bad I’d gotten; I didn’t even know how bad it’d gotten…”

“I know, but you were trying to keep it all together, and that’s what matters. But now that you know you’re not alone, you know we gotta try something different.” Ginny paused for a few seconds to let her message sink in before changing the subject. “So, did it at least work?”

“Did what work?”

“Did guzzling down an enlarged bottle of firewhiskey keep the nightmares away?” Ginny smiled as she asked it.

Hermione laid down on her bed and racked her brain trying to piece together what had happened last night after she closed her eyes. She bolted upright when she remembered.

“Ginny, I’m going to kill your brothers!”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes it worked’ then.”

“They charmed the drink! I think I just slept through a 14-hour loop of one of their Daydream Charms. It’s supposed to be and incantation, how did they manage to apply it to a consumable?”

“I know you’re not seriously asking me how they do anything. What happened?”

Hermione scratched her head before answering. “Umm, well, it started off with me in a field of flowers. The first thing I do is look down and notice that I’m wearing a ball gown, you know the big Muggle ones. I think the next part is there’s this horse that comes riding up, with someone on its back.’

“Sweet Merlin! Who was it?” Ginny leaned forward, enticed by the story.

“I’m getting to that! You’re going to have to wait. So, the horse rides up to me, but when it gets closer, I can tell that it’s not a horse, it’s a unicorn. And then the rider is wearing a suit of armor. I think he’s supposed to be a knight or something, and I’m a princess maybe. I’m not sure.

“Anyway, the knight gets off the unicorn and takes his helmet off and long blond hair comes tumbling down.”

Ginny sat up, twisting her face in confusion. “Blond?” Her confusion turned to a look of disappointment.

“I know. But the face wasn’t anyone I recognized. Then the knight takes my hand, and we start to dance in the field of flowers. We dance for a while and then the daydream resets and I get to live that all over again.”

“Wait, that doesn’t sound so bad, why are you so mad at the twins?”

“Oh! Well the whole time, there’s this hazy quality to the whole thing. Like it’s fuzzy and I can’t focus on anything. When the unicorn rides up, it kept changing colors, they were all bright neons that hurt my eyes to look at. Oh, and the knight’s hair kept getting longer the while we were dancing. I think we end up tripping over it towards the end.”

“Hermione, I’ve used one of their daydream charms before, that’s not supposed to happen. And they never repeat like that.”

“Hmm.” Hermione pondered that for a moment, “I wonder if the firewhiskey messed with it.”

“Enlarging it probably didn’t help either. Either way, you should write to the twins to let them know. They take their products very seriously, and they’d want to know if something was wrong with them.”

“You’re probably right, plus I don’t think I ever wrote them a thank you note.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and stood from the bed.

“Yes, but that can wait until after lunch, it’s already past noon and I know you’ve got to be starving.”

Hermione joined her in standing and the two made their way out of the dorm and down to the Great Hall.

***

_Saturday 28 September 1996_

_Dear Mr. Weasleys_

Hermione crumpled up the piece of parchment and threw it away. Much to formal.

_Dear Fred and George,_

She thought back to the letter she had received from the twins on her birthday, and the way they had signed it. She quickly threw away this latest sheet of now ruined parchment and grabbed what was, hopefully, to be the last one used.

_Dear Brains of the Operation, and the Other One (Cofounders Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes),_

Hermione grinned at that.

_Thank you very much for the birthday present. Sorry that it’s taken me so long to write a proper thank you note, but I have been swamped with homework. All of our classes are wanting us to practice nonverbal spells and piling on the essays, as I’m sure the two of you can remember from your 6 th year. _

_Even I’m having trouble keeping up._

_I have to say, I was surprised to hear that you took to researching muggle customs to find me a birthday present. I think that was more impressive than the fact that you charmed the shot of firewhiskey to actually include the daydream. As impressed as I am, I am still cross with you for sneaking alcohol into a school!_

_I remember your letter specially saying that you were sending me the daydream charm, but I thought you were just trying to get it past the heightened security._

_Joke’s on me, again, I guess._

_The real fun started after I downed the firewhiskey and then slept for the next 14 hours with your 30-minute daydream on repeat the whole time._

_I think the alcohol might have affected the charm, because the whole experience was rather blurry, like I was seeing through a fog. The unicorn kept changing colors, and the knight’s hair kept growing longer._

_Since I know that these charms have been flying off your shelves (I know because I see them being delivered every morning in the Great Hall at breakfast) I think my experience is the outlier._

_I suggest putting a warning on your products to not use while consuming alcohol._

She neglected to tell them about the enlargement she placed on the bottle. Hermione briefly considered telling them, but decided against it when she realized that would mean having to explain why she did it.

_On the whole, I was rather impressed with your charm skills to not only invent the Daydream Charm, but I’m still confused as to how you applied an incantation to the firewhiskey._

_I know Professor Flitwick would be impressed also. Did you know that he left part of your portable swamp in the hallway from last year? I think there was talk about erecting a plaque in honor of the event._

Hermione stared, horrified, at her word choice. She briefly considered scrapping the whole parchment and starting again. She decided that the twins would get a giggle out of ‘erecting’ but wouldn’t bring it up.

She blushed and ended the letter.

_Thank you once again for the present,_

_Hermione Granger_

Before she had a chance to change her mind, Hermione sealed the letter and ran off to the owlery.

***

Talking with Ginny had helped, Hermione had to admit that. Was she still having nightmares, yes, but the fact that she knew she wasn’t alone in this made it easier to deal with. Even if it was only marginally better.

Sunday the two had brainstormed ways that Hermione could lessen her load. Ginny had made several good points, and Hermione conceded to a few of them.

One, Hermione had to realize that she wasn’t the only prefect. She still had Ron and the two fifth years. She needed to lean on them more. No more switching patrol shifts or offering to cover for people. Hermione needed the consistency of a schedule.

Two, she was no longer going to be helping out the first years with all of their assignments. Hermione could pick one subject that she would be able to help them with, but for everything else they had to find another student to help them. AND she was not allowed to revise any of their essays.

Three, and this is the one Hermione was going to have the most trouble with, she had to get rid of the 15-minute sleep cycle. It obviously wasn’t working. She and Ginny decided that it was prudent to get as much sleep as she could in one go. One night a week, Hermione was to go and get a vial of Dreamless Sleep from Madam Pomfrey.

Once a week shouldn’t cause a dependence on it, while giving Hermione a chance to get some much-needed rest. This plan could work. She desperately needed it to work.

Monday morning arrived all too soon, but Hermione was ready for it. She looked over her schedule for the week. With the changes that she and Ginny had talked about, she had a few chunks of free time during the week.

She had no idea what she was supposed to do during that time. Ginny had refused to tell her what to do with free time.

“It’s _free time_ Hermione, you’re supposed to do what you want, not what I want.”

Hermione had rolled her eyes when Ginny had said it, but she realized her friend was right. She needed to figure out who she was again.

When her alarm finally went off, she got up to get ready. Her reflection still troubled her. Her checks had hollowed, a testament to the meals she had missed the past week. The dark circles that had been haunting her eyes still remained, they weren’t going to go away overnight, no matter how much she wished they would.

She still had to force the smile while she said her mantra and then left to head down to breakfast. Hermione was one of the first to enter the Great Hall. She sat at the long Gryffindor table and set to work filling her plate.

When she had finished with her toast and pumpkin juice the table around her had filled. Students were still wiping the sleep from their eyes as they fumbled to grab the food on the platters in front of them. Harry and Ron included.

All too soon, the owls started arriving with the morning post. Hermione had contemplated canceling her subscription to the _Daily Prophet_ , but she knew Ron liked to hear what was going on in the world but didn’t have the spare money for a copy.

When the paper landed in front of her, she passed it off to Ron who nodded his thanks and slipped it into his bag to read later. Hermione turned to gather her things to leave for Ancient Runes when she noticed a barn owl was perched on top of her bag where it lay on the bench next to her.

Hermione gasped at the beautiful creature sitting next to her. The gold feathers of its wings stood out in a stark contrast with its white face. Hermione reached up to stroke the circle of dark brown feathers that ringed the bird’s head. The owl nuzzled into her hand, eager for more scratches.

Soon the owl remembered its duty and pulled its head from her hand. The bird held out its leg for Hermione to remove the letter that was attached there. She quickly thanked the bird and away it flew.

She turned the letter over to see the all too familiar WWW emblazoned in the gold wax. Hermione had not expected a reply at all, let alone so soon. She had sent the letter off on Saturday, and estimating how long it would take the owl to deliver the letter to London and then the new owl she’d just met to deliver their reply, the twins must have written back immediately.

_How very interesting. At least they care about their products, they write back immediately if there’s a customer complaint. Good for them._

Hermione finished gathering her things and broke the seal on the letter on her way to class. She was no stranger to walking while reading, so she easily traversed the school with her head down. The chicken scratch that she found on the page told her it was Fred, again, who had replied.

_Dear Hermione Granger,_

_It appears that many thanks are due your way._

_Firstly, let me graciously thank you for reporting to us that alcohol alters the effect of our Daydream Charms. We here at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes take complaints very seriously. Our product design team (George says hi by the way) are currently working tirelessly to resolve this issue. As a token of our apology, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes has enclosed a complimentary Daydream Charm that should be up to snuff._

_Secondly, thank you for informing us that Professor Flitwick has requested to join the WWW Fan Club. If you would be kind enough to inform him that our Fan Club meets every Wednesday in the Leaky Cauldron at half eight (not really, but George and I have been in contact with Flitwick because of a few issues with our products and he’s been rather helpful)._

_I hope that in the future you have much more successful experiences with WWW products,_

_Fred Ignatius Daniel Buckbeak Weasley III_

_Co-Founder Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_

_Head of Product Design_

_P.S. yes it appears that the joke was on you again. Current score is Weasleys-2 Granger-0_

Hermione smiled as she read the letter. God it felt good to smile after her hellish week. She quickly folded the letter back up and put it in the envelope. She noticed a smaller piece of parchment in the envelope.

_This must be the incantation for the daydream charm. I think I’ll wait until this weekend to use it. Just in case they want to make it Weasleys-3 Granger-0._

Hermione quickly shoved the envelope into her bag and walked in to find a seat in Ancient Runes.

***

The rest of the week passed by smoothly enough. Hermione made sure she ate something at every meal, and she was slowly filling back out. Sleep was still an issue for her. Hermione just accepted that she would not be getting eight hours of sleep in a row every again.

At first, she used some of the free time that Ginny had found in her schedule for napping. And that helped, but Hermione felt like she was wasting time if she wasn’t doing something. She started knitting again.

It took time for her fingers to remember the correct way to hold the needles, but soon she was back in her groove. She was still terrible, but she was getting better. It felt good to occupy her mind with something that wasn’t school or the impending war.

The mindless task had been good for her. She made a mental note to thank Ron again for the perfect birthday present he had given her.

Friday night rolled around, and she found herself knitting alone in the common room. Harry had been doubling down on Quidditch practice, and Neville was helping out in the green houses tonight, so her usual friends were absent.

There was supposed to be a Slug Club party tomorrow evening. She didn’t know if she was going to attend yet. Her mind drifted back to what her father had said in the letter he’d sent on her birthday.

Hermione decided to give it another shot.

_Maybe the first one was awkward because it was the first meeting. After all, Dad said I should try to make some connections while I’m here. It wouldn’t hurt._

She went back to focusing on her knitting. Soon her fingers ached from the constant moving. Hermione checked the clock. It was nearly 11, she’d been sitting there knitting for almost 3 hours. She hadn’t decided what this latest monstrosity was going to be, but a pile of it lay on the stone floor.

_Guess this is as good a time as any to stop for the night._

She gathered her creation and started to climb the stairs up to her dorm. While she was stuffing her needles and yarn into her bag something caught her eye. The gold wax seal from Fred’s letter was reflecting off the torch light in the stair well.

Hermine pulled out the envelope and continued up to her room. She’d forgotten all about it. When she made it to her bed, Hermione pulled out the slip of parchment with the incantation on it.

She usually didn’t go to bed for another hour anyway. If she remembered correctly, the charms were only supposed to last for 30 minutes. That was plenty of time for her to daydream and then still get to bed on time.

Hermione pulled her bed curtains closed and cast a _Silencio_ just in case. She made herself comfortable on her pillows and spoke the incantation aloud.

Nothing happened.

“Son of a bit—”

Suddenly it was dark, like all the torches had been doused. Slowly, the daydream bled into view. Hermione found herself wearing the same regal dress she’d been in during the last daydream.

The twins clearly didn’t know much about fashion, Muggle or Wizard.

She looked around expecting to see the knight ride up on the unicorn, but it appeared that Fred had sent her a different scenario. Instead of standing in a field of flowers, Hermione saw that she was atop a stone tower. She walked toward the parapet, and a grinding metal sound followed her.

Hermione looked down and saw that she was chained to the floor.

_Who wants a daydream about being a prisoner?!_

Her outrage was ended when she heard a terrible roar. She quickly looked over the edge and saw a what had made the noise. A Welsh Green was breathing fire into the sky. Hermione had to take a step back to avoid the flames that were coming at her. She could feel the heat from the fire on her skin.

_Oh, very nice attention to detail!_

The dragon had stationed itself in front of her tower. Hermione looked for her wand to unlock the chains. It was nowhere to be found.

_Okay, so no magic. Maybe I’m not supposed to break out of here._

As if summoned by Hermione’s realization, a voice called out to her.

“Fear not fair maiden! I have come to vanquish the beast and set you free!”

She rolled her eyes as she moved back to gaze over the parapet. The blond knight from the previous daydream was back, minus the neon unicorn and constantly growing hair. He dismounted his steed (a regular horse this time) and strode toward the dragon.

Hermione decided to play along with the daydream. She had nothing better to do until it was over, after all.

“Brave knight,” she called, “please hurry. The dragon has chained me in this tower! How a dragon managed to use chains is still a mystery to me!” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

“Fear not fair maiden! I have come to vanquish the beast and set you free!”

_Great, I don’t even get a different set of dialogue. Where’s the fun in that?_

The knight drew his sword from its scabbard and approached the dragon. The Welsh Green unfurled its wings and roared at the knight as he approached.

_This should be fun to watch, at least._

The knight pulled his shield in front of him and charged the dragon with his sword pointed straight ahead. The dragon reared its head and let loose a steam of fire right at the knight.

Quickly, the knight rolled to the right and out of the path of the flames. There was a loud scrape of his armor against the cobblestones. The knight got to his feet once more and charged the dragon from the side.

When he got close, the beast batted him away with its front leg. The knight skidded across the ground and came to a stop when he hit a rock. He wasn’t moving.

Hermione gasped at the sickening crunch he made. Then she remembered he wasn’t real.

“You call that trying to save me? Get back up!”

The knight obeyed her orders and stood once more.

“Fear not fair maiden! I have come to vanquish the beast and set you free!”

“Then bloody get on with it!” Hermione was losing her patience with the fictional knight.

She briefly considered cheering for the dragon instead.

The knight lowered his sword and charged the dragon again. The dragon reared its head to send flames toward the knight, again.

_This is getting repetitive…_

Instead of rolling to the side, the knight summersaulted forward under the flames. When he popped back up, he was between the dragon’s front legs. The knight quickly thrust his sword upward and into the beast.

The dragon gave a terrible cry of pain, and then fell over dead. The knight withdrew his blade and kicked open the door to Hermione’s tower. She could hear the clanking of his armor as he ran up the stairs to set her free.

Finally, a trap door burst open and the knight emerged.

“Alas! The dragon has been slain, and I am here to free you.”

“Oh, would you look at that, he can say different things.” Hermione stepped back to show the knight the chains around her ankle.

The knight lifted his sword and brought it down with a loud crash, breaking the chain. Hermione decided that the knight had done a good job and deserved a reward. She fished around in her dress for what she assumed had to be there.

She was right.

“Brave knight, thank you for saving me from the dragon and freeing me from the tower. Please take this handkerchief as a token of my appreciation.” Hermione held out the white cloth and waited for the knight to take it.

“Many thanks, fair maiden.” The knight strode forward and took the handkerchief.

Hermione was able to see his face clearly for the first time. He was quite attractive. His blond hair was singed partially at the ends, but it didn’t take away from his beauty. Once he had the cloth, he stepped closer towards Hermione.

The knight wrapped one arm around her back. His other hand moved to hold her face. The knight’s thumb wiped away what Hermione assumed to be a tear.

_Wait, when did I start crying? Is this just part of the daydream?_

Something about the way the knight wiped at her face stuck with Hermione. It was familiar in a way she couldn’t place. She looked into the knight’s eyes; dark blue eyes stared back. Slowly, the knight lowered his head.

Hermione didn’t know what was happening, and she was too slow to stop it. The knight tilted his head slightly to the side, so their noses didn’t crash. His lips met hers in a soft kiss.

She quickly came to her senses and tried to push him away, but the daydream had ended. She was back in her bed.

The first thing Hermione noticed, was that her shirt was wet.

_Surly I wasn’t crying…_

She dabbed at the wet spot and noticed her chin was still dripping. She wiped at her mouth and remembered what the boxes had said back at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes: may cause minor drooling.

_This doesn’t seem minor!_

When Hermione was done cleaning herself up, she thought back to the daydream. Her lips still tingled from the unexpected kiss. She played it over in her memory while rubbing at her bottom lip.

“Huh...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Chapter 5 was a little dark, and I said that it was going to be darkest before the dawn. Thanks for sticking with me until morning. 
> 
> I wanted to explain how I feel Hermione was handling things. After the department of mysteries attack, Hermione had a problem, and she knew she had a problem. Unfortunately the only tool she had to fix her problem was a shovel. 
> 
> Shovels can do many things, but the easiest thing to do with a shovel is dig. So Hermione dug. She's smart, she knows that digging a hole isn't going to fix her problems, but she also knows she needs to do something. Who knows, maybe everyone is wrong and a hole is the answer to her problems, so the digging continues. 
> 
> Soon the hole is all she knows, it's even harder to see the light at the bottom of the hole. Thankfully, Ginny noticed Hermione digging and decided to help. But here's the deal, Ginny can't carry Hermione out of the hole, but she can give Hermione new tools to help her climb out.
> 
> That's where Chapter 6 finds us. The slow climb out of the hole.
> 
> To quote my father: "When you find yourself if a hole, stop digging"
> 
> Next update: 12/26/2020


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may give the impression that I participate in Ron Bashing. I do not, but in sticking with canon as much as possible, Ron was a bit of a jerk (as most teenage boys usually are).

_Saturday 5 October 1996_

_Dear WWW Product Design Team (hi George!)_

_It was definitely the addition of alcohol that messed up the first daydream that you sent. This last one was ‘up to snuff’. I can see why they have become so popular among the female population here._

_Again, sorry it’s taken me so long to write back. I was waiting until the weekend to try the daydream just in case you wanted to make it Weasleys-3 Granger-0._

_Your attention to detail was rather impressive, and you should be very proud of your product. I doubt Charlie approves of dragon slaying though. Don’t worry, I won’t be the one to tell him._

_For the record, the only time I ever daydreamed about a blond is when I’m reminiscing about slapping Malfoy in third year._

_Unfortunately, as a prefect I will no longer be able to accept any further products from WWW as they have been banned from the school. I know that you are aware of this because I keep confiscating WWW products in disguised packaging. As much as it pains me, because your enchanted quills are a work of genius, you need to stop delivering student orders to Hogwarts._

_I know you won’t listen, but I have to say it,_

_Gryffindor Prefect Hermione Granger_

Hermione didn’t like to throw around her title, but for some reason, she thought it would make her sound more serious, more mature. Why she wanted to sound mature to the Weasley twins, she had no idea.

Double checking that her letter would have the intended effect, she sealed it and headed off for the owlery. When she arrived, she looked around for one of the school owls who could deliver her letter. Her eyes landed on the horned owl she had sent to her parents.

Before she was able to make her way over to the large owl, there was a great commotion from up in the rafters. There was lots of squawking and flapping of wings. Hermione backed away from the large owl who had puffed himself up to seem more menacing at the racket from above.

Hermione looked up and saw the beautiful barn owl that delivered the twins’ letter descending towards her. Instinctively, she held out her arm and the bird perched on her elbow.

“Goodness, I hope you haven’t been waiting here on my account.” Hermione looked into the bird’s eyes. They gleamed with understanding.

“Well, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for my reply for so long.” She rubbed the darker feathers that framed the bird’s face. “Such a pretty bird. I wonder what your name is.”

As if to answer her question, the bird craned its neck upwards to reveal a collar with a silver pendant on it. Hermione reached with her other hand to turn the pendant over to see what was inscribed on it.

“Whoudini,” she read aloud. “Oh my God, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Whoudini took offense to this and nipped at her fingers. Hermione quickly drew her hand away.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” She went back to scratching Whoudini’s feathers. “It’s just your name is a rather terrible pun. But I suppose it makes sense, considering who bought you. Here, give me a minute, I need to use both my arms.”

Whoudini hopped off her arm and perched on one of the stalls that lined the wall. Hermione began digging through her satchel to find her quill. She had to add something to her letter.

Rather than having to reseal the whole thing, she wrote it on the outside of the envelope.

_Nice name for the owl. How do you even know who Houdini is?_

She called Whoudini back over and sent her away with the letter.

***

Hermione stared down her reflection. Her fair would simply not cooperate. She was trying to get ready for the Slug Club meeting, but now she contemplated not going.

_Why do you even care? Everyone already knows that your hair is a mess. Let’s just get this over with._

Hermione pushed her hair behind her ears where it stayed, for a moment before it sprang back. She sighed in defeat.

The walk down to Professor Slughorn’s office was uneventful. Other than when Hermione tried to flatten her hair. Or when she kept straightening her skirt. Or fidgeting with her sleeve cuffs. She did manage to stop herself from picking at the place on her bottom lip though.

_Why am I so nervous about this? It’s not like I don’t see Professor Slughorn almost every day in class! Why is this so different?_

“Ms. Granger!” Professor Slughorn interrupted her thoughts. “So glad you could join us this evening. No Mr. Potter?” the professor looked around behind Hermione as if he expected Harry to appear out of thin air.

“Not this evening,” she replied. “He had another Quidditch practice. Practically has a whole new team to train. Or at least that’s what he says.”

“Ah, no bother.” He reached up and patter her on the shoulder and ushered he into the room where the other Slug Club members were sitting.

Hermione grabbed a goblet of pumpkin juice from a table as she walked towards the sitting area. She wasn’t thirsty, but her hands desperately needed something to hold onto. She found an empty seat on one of the couches and tried to get comfortable.

Soon everyone was seated in the overstuffed chairs. Professor Slughorn came over to join the group, followed by who was apparently to be their guest speaker for the evening.

“So glad everyone could join us this evening. Well, almost everyone.” Professor Slughorn gave Hermione a pointed look. “Tonight, our guest is a former student of mine, he works for the Ministry of Magic. I know that most of you here have family that work in the Ministry, in the various legal departments, but Mr. Batch here works in a very special department. He’s usually not allowed to _speak_ about it.”

The way Professor Slughorn emphasized ‘speak’ caught Hermine’s attention. She perked up.

_He’s an Unspeakable. He works in the Department of Mysteries._

“Thanks, Sluggy,” Mr. Batch started. “Yes, I do work for the Ministry on one of the lower floors.” He winked at the group. “Normally, I’m not supposed to share what goes on at work, but I’m can talk about some general ideas if anyone has any questions.”

Hermione listened in as Mr. Batch talked about the different areas of magic that his Department was researching. He mentioned that there was a recent ‘setback’ that had forced them to start over on several projects. Some students glanced at Hermione when he mentioned it.

_Oh, he means what we did last year. Yeah, sure, blame me and not the Death Eaters who attacked children._

Soon, Mr. Batch was done with his speech and Professor Slughorn began to move around the room introducing him to people. Hermione stayed in her seat until it was her turn to schmooze with the two men.

“And this is Hermione Granger,” Professor Slughorn said while clapping her on the back.

“I thought you looked familiar!” Mr. Batch reached out his arm to shake her hand. Hermione cautiously accepted. “I may or may not have been in charge of approving a request involving you a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry?” Hermione raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall had a student a few years ago who was keen on taking all the elective classes offered here at Hogwarts and needed help arranging the _time_ table.” Mr. Batch winked again.

_The time-turner!_

“Oh! Yes, that was me.” Hermione blushed. “It was very helpful, your assistance I mean, but in the end, I dropped a few classes because even with help it was getting to be too much.”

“That’s too bad. Plus, the rest of our supply was ruined earlier this year.” Mr. Batch raised his eyebrow suggestively at the last part.

_He knows._

“Yes, I heard you mention your ‘setback’ earlier.” Hermione grew tired of the vagueness. She decided a direct approach was in order. “I’m sure you know that I’ve visited your offices.”

Mr. Batch said nothing to this. Hermione decided to push on.

“In fact, I pushed a Death Eater into the jar with the hummingbird in it. I’m sure you know the one I’m talking about.”

Mr. Batch nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I’m sorry that years of research were ruined, but I assure you, if we hadn’t’ve been fighting for our lives we wouldn’t have left such a trail of destruction.” Hermione finally took a sip of the pumpkin juice she’d been holding on to for so long.

“Ms. Granger, I hope I haven’t offended you. Not many adults have experienced what you have, let alone students. I hope that one day you’d consider working with us. Not every day that someone shows an aptitude for my line of work at such a young age.”

Hermione did not expect that. She blushed at the complement.

“I’ll keep that in mind Mr. Batch.”

The two shook hands and Mr. Batch moved on to talk with some of the other students. Hermione left the party soon after the encounter. She thought about what Mr. Batch had said while she walked back to Gryffindor tower.

_An Unspeakable knows who I am. He was impressed with what I’ve done so far. I think he offered me a job. That was so weird. Maybe Slug Club isn’t so bad after all. I mean I’ll still get to meet and network with people. I don’t have to let Professor Slughorn take credit for everything I do._

_He definitely offered me a job._

Hermione stood a little straighter as she walked down the empty halls. It wasn’t until she was tucked into her bed that she realized she’d had a conversation with someone about what happened at the Department of Mysteries without having a panic attack.

***

Sunday came and went without any fanfare. Hermione woke up from another nightmare but had actually managed to get back to sleep. Something she hadn’t been able to do since June.

Homework was completed, spells were practiced, yarn had been knitted. She was fairly certain she even ate three meals.

But today was Monday, and uncertainty always arrives with Mondays.

Hermione wearily opened her eyes.

Her morning started off the way it had for several months now, with a nightmare. She easily slid into her routine and headed off to the bathroom. The bags that had been plaguing her eyes didn’t seem as drastic in her reflection.

_Ginny was right, the extra sleep is helping. I feel better than I have in a while. Gonna kick Monday’s arse!_

“I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I can do this.”

Hermione believed it for the first time in a long time.

Soon she was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Her plate adorned with toast and various jams. Hermione was oblivious to all the goings on around her. Her eyes pouring over her schedule for the week.

Despite the way Harry and Ron felt about it, planning gave her a sense of control. If she had everything accounted for, then there were no surprises lurking for her. One of these days she’d get her “go with the flow” friends to see the light, or so she kept telling herself.

Hermione’s intent study of her schedule was interrupted by the sound of hooting and flapping wings. She looked toward the open window as the stream of owls came in. She wasn’t expecting any mail. She’d even changed her subscription to the _Prophet_ into Ron’s name, so she didn’t even have to look at it anymore.

As she watched the birds, a fleck of gold caught her eye. Hermione strained to see the large gold, feathered wings that stood out next the snow-white face of the bird flying towards her.

_Whoudini? What’s she doing here?_

When the bird got closer to the table, Hermione spied the red envelope clutched in her talons.

_A howler? I bet Ron’s done something to piss them._

Hermione wasn’t the only one who noticed the red envelope Whoudini carried. Several of the other Gryffindors pointed up at the bird as she flew past, waiting to hear the commotion when it was opened. Hermione could hear bets being placed as to who it was for and what it was about.

To everyone’s great astonishment Whoudini dropped the tell-tale red envelope in front of Hermione.

She could feel the stares of her fellow students boring into her.

Her heartbeat raced inside her chest.

_Run._

Her body wouldn’t respond.

_Get up and run!_

“Hermione? Is everything alright?” She couldn’t even make out who was asking.

_Grab the bloody letter and run!_

She pushed the bench abruptly away from the table, nearly toppling her goblet in front of her. Her arm shot out and grabbed the red envelope.

Her legs, on autopilot now, carried her from the Great Hall. She was running down the corridor. Tears blurred her vision, and she didn’t know where she was going.

There was a door in front of her and she pushed it open. She leaned back against the door and sank to the floor. Slowly she blinked away the tears and took in her surroundings.

She was in a bathroom.

She took another look around.

The girls’ bathroom.

_Oh, thank god._

For the first time since fleeing the Great Hall, Hermione allowed herself to look at the letter she carried. She knew she had to open it soon or it would open by itself. It couldn’t even be vanished until its message had been delivered.

Hermione forced air into her lungs, closed her eyes, and tore open the seal.

Silence.

Hermione counted to three in her head.

Still no sound poured out of the envelope.

She opened her eyes and stared at the offending red paper in her hands. There was a sheet of parchment inside the envelope.

_Howlers don’t come with a letter. It’s not screaming at me. What’s going on?_

Hermione carefully turned the envelope over carefully in her hands. She muttered a few spells over it trying to diagnose what the problem was. The spells didn’t reveal anything.

It was just a regular red envelope.

Realization of what had just happened to her hit Hermione like a tonne of bricks.

_They tricked me…_

Hermione’s cheeks burned as anger flared up though her.

_THEY TRICKEDME!_

A frustrated growl escaped her lips. She grabbed the envelope with the letter still inside and prepared to rip it to shreds. Before she was able to release her anger on the paper, there was a knock at the door behind her.

“Hermione, everything alright in there?” Ginny’s voice came muffled through the thick wood of the door.

“NO!” Hermione yelled back.

“Do you mind if I come in?”

Hermione pushed herself off the floor and stood on shaky legs. She turned and opened the door for Ginny.

“Thank you,” Ginny started. “I followed after you when you ran out of the Great Hall, you left your bag, so I brought it with me.”

Ginny held out the satchel for Hermione. She accepted it with a nod of her head and walked over to the sinks. Her face was still red, her anger had not abated yet. She splashed some water on her face.

“Did you open it yet?” Ginny cautiously asked. “I didn’t hear anything from the hallway.”

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. She turned around and leaned back on the sink and held the envelope out to Ginny for her to inspect.

“It’s not a howler. Your brothers just thought it would be funny to embarrass me in front of the whole school.”

Ginny took the offending red paper from Hermione’s outstretched hand.

“Have you read it yet?”

Hermione shook her head. Ginny slid the letter out and opened it up.

“Well good news, I’ll only have to kill one of my brothers. This is all Fred; I’m pretty sure George is innocent in this case.” Ginny tried to give Hermione a reassuring smirk.

Hermione felt her shoulders droop and let out another groan. “Oh, I’m fairly certain I’ll be the one doing the murdering in this case.”

Ginny skimmed a few more lines of the letter and slid it back into the envelope. She held it out for Hermione.

“I know you’re probably too angry to read it right now, but don’t burn it just yet. I think it’s worth a read.”

Hermione stared at the envelope for a few seconds before she decided to reach out and take it from Ginny. She took two deep breaths before she stuffed it into her satchel. If Ginny said she should read it, then she would.

She trusted Ginny.

Right now, she was about the only red head Hermione trusted.

***

Two days.

That’s how long it took Hermione to calm down enough to open the letter. It took two days for her to stopper the bottle of rage that Fred Weasley had wrenched open. She thought she was fine and was going to read it at lunch on Tuesday, but when she reached for the red envelope in her bag, she saw all the faces of the people staring at her when the letter arrived.

Her fingers tingled with the magic she was holding back.

She decided to wait a little longer.

Wednesday morning, she had been awaken by another nightmare. As the familiar cold dread washed over her, Hermione decided that rage was a much preferable emotion and took the letter from her satchel. She slipped the parchment from the red envelope and started reading the dreadful handwriting she was becoming used to.

_To the Esteemed Gryffindor Prefect,_

_THE SWOT_

_CANNOT_

_STOP_

_THE LOT!_

_You do not know how disappointed I am that I did not get to see your face when you thought Whoudini was bringing you a howler._

_Weasley-3 Granger-0_

_Now that pleasantries are out of the way, George and I would love to send you cases of our enchanted quills, but as you have already stated, you will no longer be accepting deliveries of our products, even though they ‘are a work of genius’. Flattery will only get you so far with me Miss Granger (George, however, says thank you for the compliment… bloody traitor) and the only reason that I am still corresponding with you is because I need to hear more about this Malfoy slapping incident!_

_This does not sound like conduct becoming of a prefect. I am shocked to hear of it, and frankly I don’t believe it. I will chalk this up to Harry and my family being bad influences on your swottish ways._

_The Hermione Granger I know would never disregard the rules, even if it was to teach a fellow student an important lesson. If I recall correctly, you seemed all too eager to stop George and me when we were looking for testers to use our products. If you aren’t careful, continued exposure to Weasley behavior could result in lower N.E.W.T. scores._

_Consider yourself warned,_

_Fred Weasley_

_Co-Founder Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_

_President of the Society to Protect Hermione Granger from Weasley Influences (badges available soon)_

_P.S. the blond in the daydream was because you had such a crush on Lockhart, thought that was your type!_

Hermione stared at the parchment in her hands. She didn’t feel the tingle of her magic that usually accompanied her anger. She didn’t feel anger.

She didn’t know what she felt, but she was no longer thinking about her nightmare, so she tried to decipher these new developments.

_One, Fred Weasley has successfully pranked me again._

_Two, he is impressed that I slapped Malfoy._

_Three, he thinks that without Ron and Harry I would be a boring bookworm._

_And fourth, and most importantly, Fred Weasley remembers that I had a crush on Gilderoy Lockhart._

Hermione felt a heat rushing up her neck. It burned when it reached her cheeks, but this wasn’t the rage she was seeking earlier. Hermione Jean Granger was embarrassed that Fred Weasley remembered such a specific thing about her childhood.

Her embarrassment soon became mortification when she realized that Fred had personally catered that daydream for her. That he thought about her preferences while crafting it for her.

The daydream filtered back into her consciousness.

_What else did he make specific to me?_

Hermione shook the thought from her head.

_Not going down that rabbit hole today!_

Hermione looked at her watch. It was still too early for her to start getting ready for the day. She pulled a sheet of parchment and her special quill from her bag. She might as well correct Fred on some things while waiting for the sun to rise.

_Wednesday 9 October 1996_

_Dear President Fred,_

_Rules exist in society, and schools, to protect the masses. Like how students who are trying to study for important exams should not be interrupted by a group of people whose noses won’t stop bleeding. And if I remember correctly, you were quickly able to find a loophole to continue your testing. That being said, there also exist reasons to break the rules when the lives of others are at stake._

_For example:_

  * _In my first year, during the first quidditch match I set Professor Snape’s robes on fire because I thought he was hexing Harry’s broom (I was wrong but that’s beside the point)_
  * _In second year, I stole potion supplies from Professor Snape to brew Polyjuice potion so Harry, Ron and I could sneak into Slytherin common room over Christmas Holiday and learn about the Chamber of Secrets_
  * _Also, in second year, I tore a page out of a library book to warn Harry about the basilisk in case I got petrified on my way to tell him_
  * _Let’s see third year I used a time turner to rescue a convicted murderer and let him escape the dementor’s kiss along with Buckbeak_
  * _Fourth year I trapped a reporter who kept spreading lies about me in an unbreakable jar when I found out she was an unregistered animagus (this might be considered kidnapping and I might have gone a touch too far here, I’m willing to admit that now)_
  * _Oh, and let’s not forget about how last year I helped Harry run an illegal dueling club where we learned defensive spells, and I broke into the Department of Mysteries to save what I thought was Sirius’ life._



_All of these are times when I broke the rules, but I did so for the protection of others. These are justifiable, and do not make me less deserving of my prefect badge. Furthermore, even though there was a Weasley present for most of these events, I would like to think that I was capable of making my own decisions and am responsible for my own actions._

_The one time I blatantly broke the rules is when I slapped Malfoy, and there is no way in hell that I am letting any Weasley, or Harry for that matter, take credit for my actions that night._

_If you’re serious about the badges I think I would like one. Ginny would probably find it hilarious._

_Do not ever underestimate me again,_

_Perfect Prefect Hermione Granger_

_P.S. God! I forgot about Lockhart. I don’t have a thing for blonds. Did you forget that the last person I dated was Viktor Krum?_

Hermione put her quill down, satisfied that she had defended her reputation. She still wasn’t sure why she felt the need to justify her past actions to Fred Weasley of all people, but it gave her a sense of pride to know that she was standing up for herself.

She looked at her watch, it was a decent hour to start getting ready. Hermione slid her legs over the side of the four-poster and stood. If she got ready fast enough, she’d have time to drop her letter off at the owlery before breakfast.

With that in mind, Hermione set to work getting ready for the day. While she was stumbling through the bathroom, something kept nagging at her.

Weasley-3, Granger-0

_Maybe I can fill the letter with glitter! No, I don’t have any with me…_

Weasley-3, Granger-0

_Oh! Do I have any powdered tarantula legs? That’s basically what’s in Muggle Itching Powder._

Hermione raced back to her trunk to check her potion supplies.

_Darn, fresh out._

Weasley-3, Granger-0

She headed out of the dorm and down the stairs towards her destination.

_What if I put a personal ad in the Prophet that says he’s looking for a wife?_

Something shifted in Hermione’s stomach at this idea. She quickly dismissed the idea.

Weasley-3, Granger-0

She stopped when she reached the owlery door. A wicked smirk twisted her lips. She’d figured it out.

As she stepped through the doorway, a familiar bird waited for her.

“Whoudini! There’s a good girl. I didn’t know Fred was expecting a reply to his letter. I’m surprised he can conduct business without you being there to help deliver orders.” She reached up and nuzzled the bird. “If you give me a moment, I have a few additions to add to my letter before you return home with it.”

Whoudini nodded, like she understood what the girl was saying. Hermione took her quill out and scribbled on the back of her letter: Weasley-3, Granger-1. She pulled her wand from her robes and aimed it at the folded sheet of parchment.

“ _Gemino.”_

Hermione carefully floated the letter to Whoudini’s leg where she secured it, without touching it. Once she was done, she sent the bird on her way. If she cast the spell right, which she probably had, when Fred grabbed the letter it would begin multiplying.

She pictured George having to come dig his brother out of the pile of parchment that Fred would soon be buried under.

Her smirk widened into a real smile. The uneasiness in her stomach lightened. Something bubbled up her throat and she was surprised when a laugh came out. Her head rolled back, and her eyes closed, and the laughter cascaded through her. She couldn’t stop it now.

Weasley-3, Granger-1 indeed.

***

Something was up with Ron. Hermione couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but he was acting different.

In Potions class, he was still fumbling around trying to follow the directions, but now, when he would mess up, it was Harry he turned to for guidance. When Hermione would go to watch Quidditch practice, it was like she wasn’t even there. Even at mealtimes, it was like Ron was mad at her for something.

Hermione raked her brain to figure out what she’d done wrong, and she came up blank. The only thing that even vaguely registered was her distaste for Harry using the Prince’s Potion book, but that shouldn’t have upset Ron.

She stared down at the invitation that Professor Slughorn had given her at the end of Potions class. Ron had stormed off when she and Harry had received them.

Things started to click into place for Hermione.

_Ron’s jealous. But why is he taking it out on me? Harry’s being invited too, why isn’t Ron acting weird towards Harry too?_

Hermione slowly packed up her things while she contemplated. Her bottom lip twitched, and she reached up to pick at the scab that still rested there. She managed to stop herself and instead reached into her bag for the lip balm her mother had sent.

She unscrewed the lid on the tin and smeared the cream on her lips. The smell of camphor eased the tension that her thoughts had brought. She felt eyes boring into her back. S

he turned to find Harry watching her. Hermione raised an eyebrow in question, Harry took it as an invitation to start talking.

“You seem different.”

“Is different good or bad?” Hermione stood and pulled her bag onto her shoulder.

“Good, I think. You look better, like you looked sick for a while but now you don’t.”

Hermione struggled not to roll her eyes. Boys could be so thick sometimes.

“If that’s a complement, you’re doing a terrible job.”

“Sorry,” Harry blushed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. He looked down in shame. “I didn’t mean for that to come out like that. I just wanted to say that I know you’ve been going through some stuff this year, and that now you look like you have a better grasp on it.”

Hermione took a deep breath to gather herself before continuing. Harry was trying his best to reach out to her right now. He was worried about her. She could trust him with her life, she knew that, but this was different. This wasn’t his burden to carry.

“I had a fight with my parents this summer about whether or not I should come back to Hogwarts this year.” She decided a half-truth was better than pretending nothing had happened at all.

“I didn’t know that.”

“How could you, I never said anything.” Hermione turned to head out of the classroom. She stopped when a hand grabbed her shoulder. Harry spun her around to face him.

“I could tell something was wrong, and I never asked. You must think I’m a terrible friend. I’m sorry.” He pulled her in for a hug.

Hermione was the first to end the hug. She looked up into his eyes. His green eyes stared back at her full of remorse.

“It’s not like you haven’t been busy. After last year, and then everything at the beginning of this year, I didn’t want to pile anything else on you.”

“Hermione, I love you like a sister. If there’s something bothering you, you know you can tell me anything.”

He looked like he meant it, but there was no way that Hermione could burden him with what she was carrying.

“Thank you, Harry, but you don’t need to worry about it. I’ve been talking with Ginny and she’s really been helping me work through some stuff.”

The two turned and walked out into the corridor together. Neither one knew where to take the conversation next, so they let the silence hang between them as they walked to their next class. It was awkward to say the least, but Hermione felt some measure of peace that she had shared part of her turmoil with Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently having to use my phone as a hotspot to post this because idk where my Wi-Fi has gone today!  
> I hope that everyone had a Merry Christmas and a Happy Holidays!  
> As 2020 comes to a close, I wanted to say thank you all for sticking with my and reading along this year. I know it hasn't been easy for anyone this year and fanfic has been a willing escape for us all.  
> Happy New Year!!!
> 
> Next update: 1/9/2021


	8. Chapter 8

It was bound to happen sometime in her life. Hermione Jean Granger had slept through her alarm and was going to miss breakfast. She’d taken her weekly dose of Dreamless Sleep potion the night before, it was apparently more potent than she anticipated.

She scrambled to get dressed and grabbed a few pieces of chocolate from the box Ginny gave her. It wasn’t the best breakfast in the world, but it would be better than nothing. Hermione could practically hear her parents screaming at her choice.

The corner of her mouth curled into a smile.

She was almost out the door when a rapping at the window caught her attention. There on the ledge stood Whoudini, waiting patiently for Hermione to let her in. Hermione ran to the window and fidgeted with the lock until it sprang open.

The bird flew in and perched on Hermione’s pillow.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t in the Great Hall; I’m running a little late this morning. I hope you didn’t have to search too hard to find me.”

Whoudini tilted her head to the side and held her leg out to deliver the mail. Before Hermione even had a chance to thank the bird, Whoudini flew off out the window. According to her watch, she had just enough time to walk to the greenhouses and still be on time for Herbology.

Hermione grabbed her satchel, her pitiful makeshift breakfast, and the letter and set off on her way. She popped one of the candies in her mouth before tearing into the letter.

_Dear Dangerous Granger (Grangerous?),_

Grangerous? She certainly liked the sound of that.

_After reading your last letter, George has informed me that if I do not immediately propose to you, for not only slapping Malfoy but for setting Snape on fire, that he will gladly sweep into Hogwarts and marry you himself._

_I would like to take this moment to apologize for underestimating you, I hope you don’t decide to turn your Grangerous skills towards me. You know, more than you already have. Nice touch with the multiplying letter by the way. You’ll be happy to know that I now have papercuts in the most inconvenient places._

Hermione blushed as she tried not to imagine what Fred meant by “inconvenient places”. She shook her head to clear away the images that still drifted in.

_Now that you have returned fire, I consider this your admission into the Great Prank War of 1996. Prepare for battle!_

She stopped dead in her tracks. She’d tried to end things, not escalate them.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” She rolled her eyes and continued on her way to the greenhouses.

_For the record, I am quite impressed with the mayhem that you have caused, even if it was for the protection of others._

_I get it._

_George and I have always tried to follow a simple code when pranking: confuse don’t abuse. Pranks shouldn’t tear others down but build the group up. With the obvious exception of Dolores Jane Umbridge and anyone who was a member of the Inquisitorial Squad._

_Now that I consider this, perhaps the punching telescopes go a bit too far… eh, they don’t sell that well anyway._

Hermione made a most undignified snort while reading that. She blushed and looked around, no one was near enough to have heard it. She continued reading.

_Merlin’s beard! How did I forget about Viktor Krum? I remember sitting around and watching nothing happen for an hour at the Black Lake only for him to break the surface with you in his arms. I guess I never thought about you two actually dating._

_What does that say about Harry that he had to rescue Ron? Oh, rather not think about that one. Especially since they share a room back home at the Burrow, and every year at Hogwarts. Great, now that thought is going to be haunting my nightmares…_

Hermione stopped in her tracks. She clutched the letter to her chest with one arm, while her other hand covered her mouth. Giggles threated to break through the barrier she had created. She stood there, silently shaking in laughter for several seconds before she gathered her composure enough to finish reading her letter.

_I suppose George and I don’t have a chance of you accepting our proposals now that you’ve got Krum waiting in the wings,_

_Fred Weasley_

_Co-Founder Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_

_Founder and President of the Hermione Granger Fan Club (George called dips on vice-president, so Harry and Ron will have to pick a different position)_

_P.S. As a prefect (even one who has an eye for mischief) what would you have to confiscate faster: a Fanged Frisbee that barks, or one that drools?_

Hermione immediately decided that she had experienced more than enough of WWW products connected with drool. She’d arrived at the greenhouses and stuffed the letter into her satchel. Tomorrow was Saturday, and she’d reply then when she had some free time.

_After all,_ she reasoned, _it would be rude to keep Whoudini waiting longer than necessary._

***

Between studying for Transfiguration and completing the translation for Ancient Runes, Hermione decided she needed a study break. She looked down at her hands, a callus was forming on her right hand from her knitting needles. The large, undetermined monstrosity she’d been working on was upstairs in her trunk and she didn’t feel like going to fetch it.

_I really should give my fingers a rest. I’m sure I’ll figure out whatever it is I’m making before too much longer. Oh! I need to reply to Fred!_

She fished around in her bag for the letter, a fresh sheet of parchment and her special quill. Hermione reread Fred’s missive before starting on her reply.

_My Dearest Fred(erick?),_

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Do I really not know what his full name is? I mean Fred seems like a common name; it could be short for Frederick. Oh no, what if it’s something weird!”

Hermione realized she was talking to herself. She looked around her to make sure no one had noticed. She was in the clear. She took a deep breath and resumed her writing.

_Alas I will not be able to accept either proposal for marriage, because my parents would kill me if I married someone who dropped out of school (sorry George, that means no for you too)._

_How could you have forgotten that I dated Krum? It seems like all anyone ever wants to talk about is how we danced at the Yule Ball. I assure you though, I don’t have him waiting in the wings. We still occasionally write each other, but not as much as we used to. I think it’s safe to say the flame has died out._

_I was surprised to hear that you and George follow a code when it comes to your pranks, but I guess that it makes sense. You two have always been rather tame, pranking for fun and not just outright hexing people in the hallways._

_I mean you did wait until after Easter Holiday last year to do your final prank so that people could study in peace. Which I never properly thanked you for. So, thank you both for letting me get in my studying so I wouldn’t have had a mental breakdown over my low O.W.L scores and then have to give up Hogwarts and move back home with my family in shame._

Hermione hoped that last part came off as playful, and not as a cry for help.

_Speaking of Umbridge, have you heard that Snape is the new DADA teacher? It’s super weird, like he was intense as Potions Master, but this is something else. Anyway, we have a new Potions Master, and his name is Professor Slughorn._

_Apparently, Harry went with Dumbledore this summer to convince Slughorn to come out of retirement to teach again. He’s alright, every few weeks he has a little get together for his higher achieving students. It’s quite fun because he invites some of his past students to come and talk. It’s like a little career fair. He’s been trying to get Harry to come since the start of school, but Harry keeps scheduling quidditch practice to avoid them._

_Ron won’t stop complaining about how he never gets invited to the Slug Club meetings. He’s always in such a bad mood when Professor Slughorn delivers the invites. He’s been so pissy this year. Between Slug Club and Ginny’s love life, I’ve had to deal with Ron going off just about every day. I mean I’m glad he’s being a protective older brother, but Ginny has her own life and can make her own decisions._

Hermione tried to stop herself, but once she started writing about her frustrations with Ron she couldn’t let up. It just poured out from her, the dam had broken.

_Oh, and there’s another thing I’m mad at your brother for. In potions, Harry found this copy of the textbook that has all these different instructions and spells written in and he keeps using them in class. His potions keep turning out better than everyone else’s. I keep telling him that it’s wrong to use it, and that it could be dangerous, especially after Ginny’s experience with a mysterious book. But of course, Harry and Ron think that I’m just jealous because he’s doing better than me, and that I’m just being a killjoy._

_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rant. I won’t blame you if you skipped over that part._

_Before I forget, if I get drooled on because you two decided to release a new line of fanged frisbees, I will personally lace my next letter with undiluted bubotuber pus, which I can personally attest to being a horrible sensation._

_Don’t test me,_

_Hermione_

Her pulse was racing for some reason. Was it just from getting to vent her frustrations to someone other than Ginny or was there something else? She read over the letter again.

“Fred’s going to think I’ve gone round the bend. I mean we’re friends right? That means I can talk to him about things like this, right?” Hermione waited for a reply that she knew wasn’t coming.

“I would talk about this with Harry if it wasn’t about Ron, but that’s Fred’s brother, is it going to be okay if I’m bashing his brother?” She gathered her hair at the back of her head and twisted the strands into a bun. She held it there for a few seconds and then let it fall back down to her shoulders.

“I’m overthinking things. It’s okay. We’re at the level to where I can vent to him. It’s not like I’m some angry girl complaining to her boyfriend—” Hermione clapped both of her hands over her mouth. Her heart jumped into her throat, a heat started at her chest and started to creep its way up her neck to her cheeks.

_Did I seriously just use the word boyfriend to describe a situation with Fred?_

_No._

_Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope! Nope!_

***

Hermione starred at the Yarn Monstrosity. She had no better way of naming the knitting project that she’d been working on for the past few weeks. She’d been working on it during her free time, and it had never occurred to Hermione to stop when it got to a certain size, so she just kept on with the same project.

It was longer than she was at this point. It would have made a decent scarf, but she was knitting it from the long side and now it was too wide to fit any neck comfortably.

When Ginny had first suggested that Hermione use her free time to start up a hobby, she’d riffled around in her trunk and found an old, faded gold skein of yarn from fourth year. It was easy enough to double the yarn, and then when it ran out, she doubled the spare skein before starting to knit with it.

It was a good system. Hermione never ran out of yarn and she just kept on knitting, listening to the click of her needles.

But then there were the colors.

When Hermione finished the first skein of yarn, she decided to experiment with the second one. They had just learned a color changing spell in Transfiguration class and Hermione wanted to practice it. She changed the color of the second skein to red (classic Gryffindor), doubled it, and started to add it to the Monstrosity.

Hermione had wanted to alternate between yellow and red, but something happened when she tried to transfigure the color again. She got orange. No amount of spell work managed to make it yellow.

At the time, Hermione was quite frustrated with it, but she accepted the loss and used the orange anyway. The same thing happened every time she produced a new skein and tried to change the color. It was never the one she wanted, but at least it was different from what she had just used.

Hermione settled into one of the chairs in the back of the common room. Monstrosity seemed such a fitting title, with the size and Frankenstein affect the mismatched colors gave it.

_I guess you’re just going to be the world’s ugliest blanket then._

She picked up her needles and continued where she had left off, with a puce yarn. While her hands fell into their muscle memory, Hermione decided to think about the letter she had forced herself to send off unedited.

_It’s not a big deal._ She thought, no longer trusting herself to voice her opinions out loud. _If Ginny weren’t so busy with Quidditch and Dean, I would have said the same thing to her. It’s going to be fine, if I crossed a line, I’m sure he’ll tell me._

_Or he’ll never talk to me again._

Hermione stopped knitting for a few seconds. Her stomach did not like that thought and it was quickly turning sour.

_Okay, I guess I’ll add that to the list of topics I’m not allowed to think about anymore._ The clicking of her needles resumed. She forced herself to focus on how the yarn was moving between her fingers. _Push the right needle through the loop on the left needle. Wrap the yarn around the right needle, pull it between the two needles. Grab the loop with the right needle, pull it off the left needle._

Her stomach calmed as she refused to let her mind stray from the motions. She finished her row and flipped The Monstrosity around to start on the next.

Push the right needle through the loop on the left needle.

_What if Fred does think you’re acting like a whining girlfriend?_

Wrap the yarn around the right needle.

_Would it really be so bad if Fred associates you with a girlfriend?_

Pull it between the two needles.

_No, we’re just friends, nothing more._

Grab the loop with the right needle.

_We’ve never talked this much before, even when I stayed at the Burrow over the summers._

Pull it off the left needle.

_Am I sending the wrong signals? Does Fred think I have a crush on him? Does he have a crush on me? DO I HAVE A CRUSH ON HIM?_

Hermione let out a defeated sigh. It seemed that even knitting would not be a viable distraction anymore.

***

Hermione didn’t sleep well that night. She wasn’t plagued by nightmares, but by her thoughts from that afternoon.

_Do I have a crush on Fred Weasley?_

_No. he’s just a friend. A friend that I have known for several years now. Whose family has practically adopted me. A friend that respects my opinion on certain matters._

_I do not have a crush on Fred Weasley. Right?_

_He’s an immature person who never finished school and probably has no idea how to survive now that he isn’t living with Molly anymore. He’s lazy and always looks for a way out of hard work, that’s why he opened that stupid joke shop._

_But everything in that joke shop is a work of genius! You’ve seen for yourself that their Daydream Charms are truly spectacular. He’s not lazy, he’s just selective about what he gives his full attention to._

_And right now, it looks like you’re one of the things he’s giving his attention to._

Hermione pulled her pillow over her face and screamed out her frustration.

She had managed to get about an hour of sleep the whole night. Before she left to head down to breakfast, she grabbed the bag of Pepper Imps from Ginny’s present and stuffed them in her bag. She would probably need a little help staying awake today, best to be prepared.

Hermione was not looking forward to breakfast. She had done the maths, and if Fred replied with his usual speed (if he replied at all) she would most likely see Whoudini this morning. She didn’t know which eventuality would be worse.

She kept her head down while she ate. She refused to let herself look at the windows. When she heard the telltale sound of hooting and flapping wings, she gulped down the last of her pumpkin juice and made to leave.

But Whoudini was faster.

Before Hermione was even able to grab her bag, the owl was perched on it, tilting her head up at Hermione. She wanted to be mad, she really did, but who could be mad at such a beautiful creature. Hermione, reluctantly, grabbed the letter from Whoudini and gave her a piece of bacon for her troubles.

The owl grabbed the gift in her beak and took off. Hermione starred at the letter, trying to decide if she should stay and read it, or head off to Ancient Runes. One glance at the Gryffindor table let her know that she had better head off the class, lest prying eyes get into her business.

It seems the Howler Incident had not yet been forgotten.

Hermione rolled her eyes and headed out of the Great Hall, breaking the familiar gold wax WWW seal. The fact that Fred’s horrendous handwriting was becoming easier to read was the most telling thing about their interactions.

_Dear Whinging Woman,_

_To correct a common misconception, Fred isn’t short for Frederick, it’s actually Freduary because I’m a lover not a fighter._

Hermione’s stomach flipped.

_Low blow bringing up our departure from formal education. If you didn’t want to marry either one of us, there were easier ways to let us down. George’s fragile sensibilities may never recover. He has since asked to leave the Hermione Granger Fan Club._

_Honestly, I forgot most of the Yule Ball, spent most of the evening trying to get Bagman to pay up. I went with Angelina, and if you’re going out with a woman, you should give your time and attention to your woman, but I vaguely remember you in some pink get up. Sorry to hear that Krum is no longer carrying the torch for you._

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pink comment, he wasn’t even close.

_Don’t worry about thanking us for waiting to completely ruin Umbridge’s life, although I hear you gave it to her as well as we did. Now that I know how serious your parents take education, I’m glad that we waited until after the Easter study break. I would hate for me and George to be the reason that the great Hermione Granger was shunned for getting Troll rankings on her O.W.Ls. How many O.W.L.s did you end up getting anyway? I heard from Mum that Ron got more than me and George put together (not that it would have been difficult to achieve that)._

_What Mum doesn’t realize is that we were very selective in our efforts. We knew that we would want to continue in Charms and Transfiguration, so we put our efforts into scoring as high as we could on those two to qualify for N.E.W.T classes. I figured there was no point trying for Potions, because you can just buy the book and follow the instructions in there. Except now you tell me Harry has a book with better instructions written in…_

_George actually scrapped an Exceeds Expectations in Care for Magical Creatures, which is good considering he’s now the Pygmy Puff wrangler at the store._

_I think Ginny mentioned in one of her letters that Snape had moved to DADA, and I thought no one could be worse than Umbridge, go figure. Ginny also mentioned the Slug Club, but she hasn’t been to any of the meetings since term started._

_I know I made fun earlier calling you the Whinging Woman, but if you ever need to vent, please for the love of Merlin, use George, he’s the sensitive one. I’m more likely to use the information against you._

_Like saying that you would attempt to poison me if WWW made drooling fanged frisbees. I think that we now know which product to move forward with. Might I suggest investing in an umbrella, as the first shipment of drooling fanged frisbees will arrive at Hogwarts as early as Halloween._

_Which brings us to our next product design question for Ms. Prefect. George wants to know about your experience with the punching telescope. We may or may not have an in with a certain 5 th year who would like to replace the telescopes before the Astronomy O.W.L this year._

_Alas my Whinging Woman, your threat of bubotuber pus does not scare me because I have dragon hide gloves, and I thought that you loved being tested._

_Your exam will be soon,_

_Freduary Weasley_

_Co-Founder Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_

_Patience Tester Extraordinaire_

Hermione felt a heat creeping up her neck. She didn’t know if it was anger, or embarrassment, or… something else. The confusion only made it worse. She heard footsteps coming down the hallway and panicked.

The blush had reached her cheeks now. She scrabbled into her bag for the bag of Pepper Imps and threw a couple into her mouth. The flames that came shooting out of her mouth disguised the red flush the letter caused.

The students passed her without another glance.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, then quickly put out the smoldering part of the letter she’d accidentally set aflame.

_Oops…_

***

Hermione had wanted to reply to the letter quickly, but Mondays were her busiest day. So busy in fact that the designated free time that she had planned into her daily schedule was replaced with essay writing.

It was okay, it was only one day. She promised herself that she wouldn’t do it again. The Yarn Monstrosity and the letter could wait until tomorrow.

And that’s where Hermione found herself Tuesday afternoon, starring at the latest ball of yarn that rested in her right hand and her slightly singed letter in her left.

_Which one deserves my attention first?_

She literally weighed her two options and decided that the Yarn Monstrosity was big enough for now. She found her self-inking quill and fresh sheet of parchment and sat on her four-poster to begin writing.

_Tuesday 15 October 1996_

_Dear Freduary,_

_My deepest apology for getting your name wrong. Contrary to popular belief there are in fact things that I don’t know, and you having such a ridiculous first name appears to be one of them._

_But now I’m curious, is it really just Fred? It thought that everyone in your family had a relatively normal name, then I remember that Ginny is short for Ginerva._

Another strange thought entered Hermione’s mind while she was writing.

_And do you even have a middle name? Like when Molly is rather upset with you what does she yell out? It appears that the list of things I don’t know is even longer than I thought._

_Please tell George that I’m sorry to hear that he is leaving the Hermione Granger Fan Club. I hope that you inform him that he was always my favorite twin, mostly because he never called me a Whinging Woman, and I’m sure he would gladly listen to me complain about his infantile brothers (including you)._

_For the record, my dress to the Yule Ball was periwinkle. Pink was nowhere close, but since I agree that you should give your full attention to your date, I will not hold it against you. Glad to know that Arthur is raising most of his sons right._

_After reading of your O.W.L.s strategy, I’m now convinced the only reason you and George are Gryffindors is because you were brave enough to hand Molly Weasley your test results._

_The fact that you calculated what tests you needed to pass to advance your product line and testing all your products on yourselves should have put you both in Ravenclaw._

_And the ambition that you have to do whatever it took to get your shop off the ground (no matter how much your mother and a certain fifth year prefect tried to stop you) should have instantly landed the two of you in Slytherin._

_If I’m being honest, I could even see George in Hufflepuff, but you don’t seem like you belong among the badgers._

_To answer your question, I got 9 Outstandings, and 1 Exceeds Expectations. Of course, the only test that I got an E in was DADA. Further proof that Umbridge was terrible, and I really must thank you for the fireworks display, even if it was for the whole school’s benefit._

_Speaking of your fireworks, I see that your business is doing well, BECAUSE I’M STILL SEEING PRODUCTS BEING DELIVERED AT BREAKFAST EVERY MORNING! I’ve been so busy confiscating things that I could probably open a second location of your shop in Filch’s office._

_Good Lord, will anyone even bother stopping at Zonko’s next weekend when we can go to Hogsmeade?_

Hermione reached the end of her sheet of parchment. She had a decision to make end her letter here or grab another sheet.

She grabbed another sheet and continued on.

_As averse as I am to you, George, and who I assume to be Ginny disrupting the Astronomy O.W.L exam, I will gladly share with you my experience with your punching telescopes._

Hermione knew for sure this time, when the heat travelled up her neck to her cheeks, that it was anger building. Memories of this summer crept back to her. The fear of when it first happened, the confusion that followed, the teasing from her friends. Fred needed to hear it all.

_When it first hit me, I thought I had gone blind because of the cloud of smoke that erupted from it. Once the smoke cleared and I could see again, Harry and Ron were all too happy to tell me that I had a black eye. Your mother tried every bruise removing charm in her book, and none of them worked. I got to endure Harry, Ron and Ginny calling me Panda for three weeks._

_Three._

_Sodding._

_Weeks._

_Honestly, if the cream that you gave me wouldn’t’ve worked, I was fully prepared to hex off a certain part of your anatomy and let George carry on the Weasley name._

Hermione sucked in a deep breath as horror bubbled within her.

“Fuck! Did I fucking just write that? What is wrong with me? I’m a psycho. He’s never going to talk to me again.” Hermione covered her face with her hands.

She took three deep breaths, then lowered her hands. Her right hand instinctually went to her lower lip. She let her thumbnail scratch at the dry skin while she thought of a way to fix this without having to start this last page over.

“You know what, I’m just gonna play it off as being tough. That’s what you get for messing with Hermione Granger! Yeah, that might work. Don’t even think about it, just keep going like nothing happened.”

If anyone had been in the room, they would not have been convinced by Hermione’s pep talk, she wasn’t either, but she had no choice but to believe in it.

_I still am if one of your products ever drools on me. I’m sure Professor Dumbledore would give me special permission to travel to Diagon Alley for the occasion. I might even be able to fit in a trip to Flourish and Blots before heading back to school._

Hermione read over the last two paragraphs five times before she was able to convince herself there was nothing wrong with it. She decided that would be a good place to end it before she screwed up again. A smirk crossed her lips when she remembered what Fred had called her in one of his previous letters.

_Consider yourself warned,_

_Dangerous Granger_

Hermione practically ran to the owlery to see if Whoudini was waiting for her reply. She wanted to get rid of this letter as fast as possible. Something about holding the parchment with the words ‘certain part of your anatomy’ made her uncomfortable.

She tried to push it out of her mind as she followed the corridors, but the phrase kept creeping back into her mind. His reaction to reading it also started to haunt her.

_What is wrong with me?_

Finally, she reached the owlery. The blur gold feathers and white face of Whoudini swooped down from the rafters to greet her.

“Whoudini, please deliver this to Fred before I lose my mind.”

The bird hooted and flew off without protest. Hermione watched her disappear through the window. As Whoudini’s silhouette became smaller against the horizon, Hermione felt the tension loosen, and a smile grew across her face at the thought of Fred finding her letter funny rather than psychotic.

When she could no longer see the bird, she turned to leave. Before she even reached the doorway, Hermione froze. Cold realization washed over her like a punch to the gut.

_Oh._

_OH NO!_

_I do have a crush on Fred!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all are gonna be mad at me after this one...  
> trigger warnings- involves mild scenes of torture and PTSD flashbacks

_Wednesday 16 October 1996_

_Dear Mum,_

_Let me preface this by saying that if you ever show this letter to Dad, I will be forced to tell him that you were the one who killed Nana Granger’s rosebush and not a pack of stray cats._

_This is strictly a woman-to-woman conversation, and I desperately need your advice._

_I may or may not have a crush on a boy._

_Little bit of background:_

  * _He’s older and has already left school_
  * _We’ve been writing back and forth for a few weeks now_
  * _He owns his own business and it’s doing quite well_
  * _I desperately need your advice because it’s one of Ron’s older brothers_



_If your advice is “just be yourself” then please don’t even bother replying because that’s absolute rubbish and we both know it._

_Please tell me I’m crazy and there’s no way he likes me back! I’m going out of my mind and I really need to focus on my schoolwork and this situation isn’t helping me._

_Love,_

_Sugarbug_

Hermione looked over the letter to her mother. It felt a little like lying when she said that Fred had “left school”, but if her mother decided to interpret that as he graduated then that wasn’t Hermione’s fault. Or so she told herself.

Hermione also hoped that her mother would assume it was one of the Weasleys that she hadn’t met. It would be easier to have these conversations with her mum if the woman didn’t have a face in mind.

She took off for the owlery to mail the letter.

***

Hermione tried to tell herself that she wasn’t excited to go down to breakfast Thursday morning. She was just really hungry, that was all. As she sat at the bench in the Great Hall, she picked at the toast and strawberry jam.

Two days. It always took Whoudini one day to deliver the letter to Fred, and then one day to carry back his reply. Her last letter was sent out on Tuesday, today she should be getting her response.

Not that she’d been waiting for one, because that would imply that she was waiting to hear back from Fred.

And she wasn’t.

Soon the air was filled with the flapping of wings. Hermione couldn’t help herself as she craned her neck up to watch the flood of feathers pouring in through the windows. The sounds of hoots echoed around the students enjoying their breakfast.

Ron’s copy of the _Daily Prophet_ was delivered. Letters were dropped all around Hermione. As quickly as it had started, the hoots and flapping were gone.

She looked around the table. No letter had arrived for her. She turned to look at her bag to make sure that Whoudini wasn’t sitting on it like she would do sometimes.

Nothing.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

_It’s your own fault for getting your hopes up._

She stood up from the bench, the small bites of toast that were in her stomach turned to lead. Tears started to blur her vision and she felt like a stupid, love-struck, schoolgirl. She walked slowly from the Great Hall to not draw attention to herself.

As soon as she was clear of the large doors, she ran. She trusted her feet to carry her to the bathroom where she hid last time Fred Weasley had made her cry. Hermione locked herself in a stall and let the tears fall.

_Stupid._

_Silly._

_Love-struck._

_Schoolgirl._

She let herself cry until it was time for her first class. She walked out of the stall and over to the sinks. Hemione splashed cool water on her puffy eyes and stared down her reflection.

“I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I can do this.” She heaved a deep breath and turned and left the safety of the bathroom.

_This is why we don’t joke about cutting off people’s penises…_

_***_

Hermione switched to autopilot. She managed to find a bottle large enough to stuff all her feelings into for the rest of the day. Large enough that she didn’t need to think about anything for the rest of the day.

Her feet carried her from the bathroom to her classes that day. Her eyes glazed over, her hearing was muffled, but her hands still went through the motions.

Scribble notes.

Flick wand.

Stir potion.

Her hand didn’t shoot up into the air to volunteer any information. If she was called upon, she came out of her bottle long enough to answer the question before sinking back inside the cold safety of her glass haven.

Hermione skipped dinner. Her feet instead traveled to the one place she would find solitude. She entered the large double doors, passed through the stacks of books. Her hands reached out and skated along the old leather spines.

She took a deep breath of the smell of paper and sighed.

She was free here in the library. She carefully allowed herself to come out of the bottle she had jammed herself in.

She left Fred in the bottle.

Hermione wandered the aisles until she found herself at the card catalog. She was in need of a distraction. She started with the A drawer.

_Ancient Runes, hmm Ancient History, Fred and I are ancient history. Nope!_

She flipped further through the cards.

_Arithmancy, maths, Fred + Hermine = Not going there!_

_Astronomy, punching telescope, MOVING ON!_

She slammed the A drawer closed and skipped over to C.

_Care for Magical Creatures, pygmy puff, NEXT!_

_Charms, Daydream Charm, NEGATIVE!_

She slammed shut C and yanked open D.

 _Defense Against the Dark Arts, Dumbledore’s Army,_ she shuddered at this one. _Not today…_

 _Divination,_ she scoffed. _Not even if my life depended on it._

SLAM. YANK.

_Herbology, Nana Granger’s rose bush, asking Mum for help, OH GOD NO!_

SLAM. YANK.

_Muggle Studies, Arthur Weasley, NO!_

SLAM. YANK.

 _Potions,_ no memories of Fred sprang to mind, but she found anger at the memory of the class. Anger, she could work with.

_Stupid Half-Blood Prince. Let’s see what we can figure out about you…_

Hermione scoured the stacks until Madam Pince ushed her and a few Ravenclaws out the doors at closing time. She had discovered nothing, but she had also kept herself from thinking about and entire family of redheads and that was good enough for now.

As she wandered the corridors back to the common room, Hermione counted her steps, the number of doors she passed, portraits, anything that would keep her emotions out of her mind.

It worked.

She kept counting while she got dressed for bed. She counted the number of vials in her trunk while she looked for the bottle of Dreamless Sleep. She counted the number of taps on the window.

_Taps on the window?_

Hermione whirled around and locked eyes with Whoudini through the thick glass window. Her heart leapt into her throat and thudded so hard she was sure someone could see it. Her feet stayed firmly planted as her emotions pushed her forward, but her logic held her back.

Whoudini tapped on the glass again.

“Hermione, are you going to get that?” someone asked. It might have been Lavender.

_Can’t move._

Tap, tap, tap.

“Hermione?”

_Get ahold of yourself!_

Tap, tap, tap.

“Merlin! Have you gotten lost inside your brain again?” the blonde girl strode across the small room and opened the window. She stomped back and waved a folded piece of parchment in front of Hermione’s face. “Oh, thank you Lavender. Oh, don’t mention it Hermione, you’re welcome.”

Lavender got tired of waiting her Hermione to snap out of it and shoved the letter into her hands. Hermione finally turned her head and watched the girl climb back under her covers for the night.

“Thanks,” Hermione managed to mumble when her tongue started working again.

Lavender grunted and rolled over with her back to Hermione, clearly done with whatever weirdness was going on.

Hermione stared at the letter in her hands. Several bottles in her mind cracked open at once.

Confusion bubbled to the surface first. _He wrote me back?_

Fear quickly washed it away. _What if it’s just to tell me to sod off and leave him alone?_

Hope struggled to make itself heard. _I’m sure there’s nothing wrong, just open it and find out._

Indignation reared its head. _Well don’t you feel silly now?_

Hermione’s hands moved on their own accord. They had to do something to shut out the voices. She uncapped the Dreamless Sleep and downed it in one go. Her eyes widened when she realized what her mutinous hands had done.

Exhaustion quickly overwhelmed her. Her feet struggled against gravity to take her the few steps to her bed. Hermione was asleep the second her head hit the pillow; the unopened letter still clutched in her hands.

***

With a clear head, Hermione awoke the next morning. She sat up to turn off her alarm, the sun wasn’t even out yet. She would have plenty of time to read the letter before getting dressed for the day if that’s what she decided to do.

Bravery had returned to Hermione and she broke the seal.

_Dear Panda,_

Already she rolled her eyes. She instantly regretted telling Fred about the telescope.

_Sorry that it took longer than usual to reply. It seems that you accidentally sent me one of your textbooks rather than your letter and it took me awhile to read it._

_I see that you’ve taken the kid gloves off. I’m sorry for calling you a ‘Whinging Woman’, I’m sorry for the telescope, I’m sorry I got the color of your Yule Ball dress wrong. Hermione Jean Granger I’m sorry for everything that I’ve ever done to displease you, now please don’t hex my bollox off._

The blush that Hermione hated so much began to creep up her neck once more at the mention of bollox. But there was something else too, Fred knew her middle name.

_Now, Hermione Jean, the day has finally come that I know something that you don’t! We’ve lived together practically all year, for what, 6 years now and you don’t know what my middle name is?_

_Merlin’s pants! 10 points from Gryffindor._

_Honestly, I don’t blame you, but I rarely get to lord knowledge over anyone, especially you. For the longest part of my life, I thought my middle name was “and George” I kind of think everyone else still believes that._

_George and I are named after our uncles, Gideon and Fabian, who died in the First War. I’m sure there’s a parchment at the Burrow somewhere that says whether it’s Frederick Fabian or Frederick Gideon, but I doubt even Mum remembers which one it is._

_Congrats again on your O.W.L.s score. I would say that 9 Outstandings would be a school record, but I know for a fact that the Humongous Bighead got more than that. I bet the only reason that you got and E in DADA is because Georgie and me left and there was no one worthwhile to spar with in Dumbledore’s Army._

_Ah, so the first trip to Hogsmeade is coming up? I remember my first Hogsmeade trip after coming of age. The lot of us went to the Hog’s Head and ordered a few rounds of Firewhiskey to celebrate. Is that what you have planned or are you more of a take your beau to Madam Puddifoot’s for tea type of person?_

The blush rose higher this time.

_Oi, business has been going good, and thank you for being such a Prefect and confiscating so many of our products. That just means we get to sell them twice! You might be on to something with that second location idea though…_

_I am eagerly awaiting your visit to come hex me (in a less Dangerous Granger way), because our Drooling Fanged Frisbees have already hit the shelves!_

The pink tinge was at her ears now.

_Frederick G or F Weasley_

_Co-Founder Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_

_Sole Member of the Hermione Jean Granger Fan Club_

Hermione flipped the parchment over. The back side was blank.

“Where’s the rest of it? My letter was two pages, and he barely can scrape together one?” The anger and indignation were back. “Deep breaths Hermione,” she followed her advice. “He’s probably been really busy at the store. You know men aren’t as good with words. You’re glad you have a letter at all. Don’t jinx it now.”

Hermione looked at her watch. It had taken her longer than she expected to read through the letter. She would now have to dash down to breakfast and then off to class.

She wouldn’t even have time to write a reply today. She was using all her free time today to get caught up on her weekend homework so she could enjoy her full Saturday at Hogsmeade.

Fred would have to wait until after.

_Serves him right!_

***

The weather had been getting colder, but Saturday was downright miserable. Between the cold, the sleet, and Harry and Ron gushing about the new spell they found in the Prince’s book, Hermione was tempted to run back upstairs and cuddle up under the Yarn Monstrosity.

She should have stayed in bed.

While the trio waited in line to be probed by Filch with the Secrecy Sensor, Hermione stewed on their breakfast argument.

_Of course, they think there’s no harm in it. It’s all a game to them. There are never any consequences for them! Sure, let’s yank everybody into the air by their ankles, it’s all a bunch of fun!_

_It’s like they didn’t even remember the World Cup! Like they haven’t been haunted by that night for years now._

She should have stayed in bed.

Hermione focused on keeping her breathing even. She tried to chase the memory of the floating, writhing bodies out of her mind. Her hand drifted to her bottom lip and started picking.

As the line lurched forward, she was stuck on one particular part of their argument kept floating back to her.

_‘Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?’_

_‘Fred and George, it’s their kind of thing.’_

Ron’s voice kept rattling around in her skull on repeat. Hermione tasted blood on her lip. She forced her arm to her side as she sucked on her bottom lip to hide the wound from Harry and Ron.

_Okay, so what if it is something that Fred would use? Does that make this situation any different?_

_No. It’s still wrong. Like how the punching telescope was wrong. And testing products on students was wrong. And smuggling products into Hogwarts was wrong._

Hermione clasped her hands together to keep them from her lip. Soon it was her turn to be jabbed with the Secrecy Sensor. Filch waved her through and they were free, after they had to wait for Ron who’d decided to mouth off and got searched _very_ thoroughly.

The cold wind pierced through every layer she had on. Her toes were starting to numb as they walked down the road to the village. She could no longer feel her lips and had no idea if the bottom one was still bleeding; she pulled her scarf higher just to be safe.

She should have stayed in bed.

The dread and hopelessness that had overtaken Diagon Alley had taken root in Hogsmeade. Miserable students milled about, surrounded by miserable adults. The usual laughter could not be heard.

At least Diagon Alley had the bright star of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to shine the way. Hogsmeade was dim. Even Zonko’s was boarded up.

_Congrats Fred, you killed my least favorite store in Hogsmeade._

A chill raced up her spine at the eerie quiet that filled the street. She never thought she’d admit it, but Hermione missed the giggles and noise the joke shop used to bring.

_I should have stayed in bed._

They passed Madam Puddifoot’s and Hermione wondered if Ginny was nestled inside on her date with Dean. It felt wrong to picture Ginny cuddling with anyone, doing frilly things like having a date at the ridiculous tea shop.

_Ginny is allowed to do whatever she wants. Stop trying to pigeonhole her, she can be sporty and girly if that’s what she wants._

Thinking of Ginny and the tea shop brought another redhead to her mind. Hermione still had conflicting feelings ever since Ron brought up that the twins would have loved the _Levicorpus_ spell.

Hermione focused on rubbing some warmth into her hands, anything to district her overthinking brain.

The only beacon of light was Honeydukes. Ron quickly pulled them in that direction. The candy shop was full to bursting. Seemed everyone had the same idea to get out of the cold. Warmth seeped into Hermione’s tingling toes.

“Thank God, let’s stay here all afternoon.” Ron shivered as he unwrapped his scarf and milled through the closest candy bins, his eyes growing wider at the bounty before them.

“Harry, m’boy!” Professor Slughorn’s voice carried over the din in the shop.

“Oh no,” mumbled Harry.

_Fuck me…_

Professor Slughorn loomed behind them. He seemed to be the only person not affected by the cold outside. His thick fur coat and hat must have been enchanted. Hermione felt a pang of jealously since the feeling had not yet returned to her face.

“Harry, that’s three of my little suppers you’ve missed now! It won’t do, m’boy, I’m determined to have you! Miss Granger loves them, don’t you?”

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but only just.

“Yes, they’re really—”

“So why don’t you come along, Harry?” Professor Slughorn interrupted.

_Rude…_

Hermione stopped paying attention to the conversation after that. Professor Slughorn’s interruption had confirmed what she had feared, she was just a pawn he was using to get to Harry.

At this point she envied Ron, being ignored was better than being used.

 _I_ really _should have stayed in bed._

Finally, Professor Slughorn gave up his diatribe and left the trio alone in the shop.

“I can’t believe you’ve wriggled out of another one.” Hermione shook her head, impressed by Harry’s ability to once again get his way. “They’re not _that_ bad, you know… They’re even quite fun sometimes…” The sad, empty look on Ron’s face convinced her, nothing was worse than being ignored. She was suddenly fine with being used as long as it never made her as hollow as Ron looked right now.

She needed a distraction, she needed to _be_ the distraction. “Oh, look – they’ve got deluxe sugar quills—” _sugar quills! Really Hermione? Is that the best you can do?_ “—those would last hours!”

Unsurprising to anyone, Hermione’s attempt at distracting Ron didn’t work. If food wasn’t going to cheer him up, then she was out of ideas. They left the candy shop without buying anything and headed down the street to the Three Broomsticks like Harry suggested.

 _That might work, there’s certainly_ one _thing there that always puts Ron in a better mood._ Images of the voluptuous Madam Rosmerta in her low-necked dresses filled Hermione’s head. _Okay fine, two things that put Ron in a better mood._

Hermione didn’t even try to fight the blush this time. The warmth it brought was a welcome addition as they trudged through the sleet once more. Hermione hugged her arms tights, feeling her own, less impressive, endowments.

She frowned, then chased after the rabbit of self-doubt.

_No wonder no one looks at you the way Ron looks at Rosmerta. You have nothing to hold their attention. That’s why Fred’s letter was so short, he’s trying to find a way to brush you off. Just reply less and less until one day he doesn’t respond at all. He’ll just be a ghost you used to talk to._

_No._ She shook her head to regain the upper hand.

_If they’re only interested in my squishy bits, then I don’t need a person like that. I am more than just my body._

_Speaking of bodies, Harry has one pinned to a wall._

Hermione jerked her head up to see Harry strangling Mundungus Fletcher.

“Harry!” Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. _What was he doing? When did Mundungus get here? How long was I zoned out?_

Harry argued with the dirty wizard, accusing him of stealing from Sirius’ home. The older wizard was struggling to breathe. His face was turning colors.

“Harry, you mustn’t!” She was nearly screaming now.

Ron was just going to stand there and watch Harry murder someone. Hermione frantically searched for something or someone who could help. There was someone running towards them, wand raised.

Tonks fired off a spell and Harry released Mundungus. After he caught his breath, he quickly Disapparated.

“FUCK!” Harry roared.

Hermione watched Tonks try and calm Harry down. It wasn’t working. He was angry, Hermione didn’t think she’d ever seen him so upset before. Tonks carefully pushed the three of them through the door of the Three Broomsticks.

“He was nicking Sirius’s stuff!” Harry refused to be calm.

“I know, Harry, but please don’t shout, people are staring,” she whispered back trying to placate him. “Go and sit down, I’ll get you a drink.”

_I need a drink._

Hermione meandered her way to the bar while Ron guided Harry to an empty table. She leaned against the cold wood trying to make eye contact with Madam Rosmerta. The witch in question was busy serving a few older wizards their drinks.

Hermione could see the swell of Rosmerta’s ‘squishy bits’ peeking out the top of her dress.

_At least Ron will be in a better mood soon. I should have stayed in bed._

Finally, Rosmerta made her way down to where Hermione stood.

“What can I get you, Love?”

“Three butterbeers… and a shot of Firewhiskey.” Hermione stumbled over the last part.

“We don’t serve underage witches here. If you want to drink I suggest you head down to the Hog’s Head.” Rosmerta leaned forward with both of her palms planted on the bar, her squishy bits prominent now.

“I’m not underage.” Hermione straightened, and pushed her own chest forward. She was not backing down.

Madam Rosmerta eyed her up and down. “Take your gloves off.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you want your shot, take your gloves off.”

Hermione complied with the ridiculous request.

“Great, now hands flat on the bar, palms down.” Rosmerta nodded to how she had her own hands situated.

Hermione huffed, but obeyed. She felt a tingle across her palms. The wood was enchanted.

_Wonderful._

“Now then, how old are you?” Rosmerta cocked a smile as she asked.

The tingle traveled up Hermione’s arms to her mouth, her tongue felt sluggish. “I’m seventeen.”

Rosmerta squinted at Hermione, but then relented. “Yes, you are. I’ll get your drinks.”

As the older witch disappeared to fetch the order, Hermione pulled her gloves back on. As soon as her hands were off the smooth wood, the tingle and the sluggishness were gone. Rosmerta returned and Hermione quickly downed the Firewhiskey before the barmaid changed her mind.

“What was that?” Hermione motioned toward the bar with her empty glass.

“In vino veritas. This place has been here long enough and soaked up enough alcohol over the years. You can’t lie while touching the wood.” Madam Rosmerta smiled and went off to help the next customer.

Hermione grabbed the three bottles of butterbeer and headed out to find Harry and Ron at the table. Hopefully, they were both in a better mood now. Hermione was certainly feeling better.

As she neared the table, she could hear Harry still ranting about Mundungus.

_No such luck then…_

Hermione tried her best to quiet the fuming teenager down. People were staring and here Harry was, spouting off about the Order of the Phoenix in a crowded bar. Blaise Zabini lurked nearby, and Hermione was in no mood to have him run off back to the den of snakes sharing what he’d heard of Harry’s temper tantrum.

Hermione was glad that Harry was expressing his emotions, that had been her whole reason for staying at the Burrow over the summer. Homicidal rage, however, was not the one she was looking for.

“Harry, I’d be annoyed too, I know it’s your things he’s stealing—”

“Yeah, it’s my stuff!” Harry interrupted.

Hermione had apparently said the right thing because he soon calmed down and was back to his normal self again. Her gaze drifted to Ron who was obviously trying to locate Madam Rosmerta. Hermione tapped her fingers on their table in annoyance.

_Why do I always have to be the emotionally mature one? Ron could at least act like he’s interested in Harry’s problem._

Hermione was tired. The day had been a total waste and now even the warmth from her shot of Firewhiskey had finally faded. She wanted her bed, now.

“Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?” She was eager to put today behind her.

Carefully, the trio bundled themselves back up and made to brave the cold trip back to the castle. The sleet fell harder on them. Hermione whispered a warming charm over her toes. Being 17 had its perks.

She didn’t bother to cast one for the boys. She felt like being petty about what they had put her through that day.

The trio walked on in silence. The wind whipped around them, and they shuddered. Harry slowed and raised his head. Hermione focused on what was ahead. She could make out two figures, probably girls, arguing. She could hear them now.

It was Katie Bell and Leanne. They had left the Three Broomsticks the same time as them. The two girls were fine up until now.

_Wonder what’s gotten into them._

The sleet was coming down harder now.

“It’s nothing to do with you, Leanne!” Katie’s voice carried with the wind. She sounded upset.

The trio followed the lane around a corner and got a better view of what was going on. The two girls were arguing over a package that Katie was holding. Whatever it was must have been important if they were willing to stop in the middle of this weather to fight about it.

Suddenly Leanne lunged at Katie and grabbed ahold of the package. The two girls tugged back and forth as the trio drew closer. Katie finally managed to yank it back but tugged too hard and with a ripping sound, the package fell to the ground.

Katies body went taut. Her limbs stretched out at her sides like she was being pulled, and she was. Slowly she raised upwards, like invisible ropes had bound her and were hanging her.

Hermione’s heart thudded in her chest. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. People didn’t just fly into the air without a broom. Hermione searched the trees around them to see if someone was casting a jinx on Katie.

There was no one.

She turned to Leanne, maybe she had gotten mad at Katie during the fight and used a the _Levicorpus_ hex on her. Terror covered Leanne’s face. This wasn’t her doing. And this wasn’t the teasing prank spell that Harry and Ron had described to her earlier that day.

This felt dark.

Like the World Cup.

A scream pierced the silence that had fallen over the group. Hermione’s head whipped back to stare at Katie as she hung, now six feet off the ground. Something was torturing her, that was the only way to explain the sound that was no coming out of her.

Leanne jumped up and tried to pull Katie back down. Hermione covered her ears with her gloved hands.

The scream was still coming through.

Katie fell from the sky and continued to writhe and scream.

Harry took off for the school to find help.

Hermione blinked and she was back in the forest after the World Cup. She was running with Ron and Harry trying to escape the crowd of scared fans. The trees were the only safety. The bodies were still flying in the air. Katie now joined them in her memories. The _Morsmordre_ glittered behind the bodies that the masked wizards tortured.

The screaming continued.

Hermione was now running through the halls at the Department of Mysteries. Spells were ricocheting off the shelves of prophecies shattering them and raining down glass. The shards of glass from the memories joined the stinging sleet that swirled around Hermione in the real world.

Her chest tightened. She couldn’t breathe. Hermione clutched at her chest where the dark scar from her curse lingered. It burned once more.

There were more screams now.

Leanne was trying to hold Katie down. To stop the thrashing, but it wasn’t working. Leanne screamed out her own fear and frustrations.

Ron jumped in to help. Grabbing and arm or a leg to try and still the tortured girl.

Hermione was frozen. She could not will her limbs to move. She was trapped inside her head, being tortured. Like Katie was.

In the distance two figures were racing towards them. One was Harry, the other could only have been Hagrid. The half-giant grabbed the screaming girl and rushed her off to the castle. The further they got, the quieter the screams became.

Hermione was able to snap out of her flashbacks finally. She walked over to Leanne and started to comfort her. She looked so broken, almost as broken as Hermione felt. If she couldn’t fix herself, then helping Leanne stay together was the next best thing.

But it wouldn’t matter for much longer.

They’d all be broken soon.

The war had come to Hogwarts…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw 'He’ll just be a ghost you used to talk to" is a reference to ghosting, not a foreshadowing of anybody's death... 
> 
> Ugh, this was a hard chapter to write, but it had to be done. Thanks for making it to the end of it, hopefully better things happen in chapter 10.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione wanted to bang her head against the table in front of her. The moment they got back to the castle, Harry would not stop talking about how Malfoy had to be the one who gave Katie the cursed necklace. Even after McGonagall had told them that Malfoy was serving detention Harry would not be dissuaded.

The more he insisted, the more Hermione’s frustration grew, boiling into anger. She held onto it. Anger was better than fear.

Now, up in the Common Room, Hermione had given up on listening to Harry’s crackpot conspiracy theories. She had left Ron and Harry sitting around the fire and retreated to one of the tables across the room.

She had tried to focus on writing. Her hands kept shaking.

She tried to read. She could still hear the pair talking.

Nothing was working.

Thus, the urge to slam her head repeatedly into the hard wood of the table before her.

Hemione was just about to follow through with her plan of knocking herself unconscious when a tapping at the window next to her caught her attention. She turned her head and opened the window for the owl perched on the ledge. She assumed it would swoop off for one of the other Gryffindors in the room, but the bird hopped to Hermione’s table and dropped an envelope before flying back out the open window.

She picked up the envelope, it was addressed to ‘Sugar Bug’. It was her mother’s handwriting. Her heart sank. She’d asked her mum for advice about Fred, but boys were the furthest thing from her mind right now.

 _I have to tell them what happened to Katie._ Her mind split into two factions.

_You can’t! You remember what happened last year, they’re going to make you come back home._

_But I don’t want to be dishonest with them anymore. They have a right to know what’s going on here, just as I have a right to be here._

_They won’t be able to do anything about it, it’ll just make them worry. Plus, they’ll be furious when you come home for Christmas._

_I guess they don’t need to know… at least not right away._

With her silence on the subject assured, she opened the letter.

_Dear Sugar Bug,_

_I have no idea what you’re talking about. That rosebush was viciously attacked by cats and I was unable to save it, however, your secret is safe with me. Your father shall not hear about this._

_As rubbish as you think it might be, ‘be yourself’ is exactly the best advice. If a boy likes you, it’s because he likes YOU. Don’t try to be someone you’re not._

_And just because I’m your mother and I know you so very well, I have another piece of advice for you: don’t overthink it._

The urge to crash her head into the table suddenly returned.

_Please keep me informed as to what’s going on with you and your ‘friend’, and I’m always here if you need anything._

_Love you,_

_Mum_

Hermione pushed her chair away from the table and stood. With the letter in hand, she climbed the staircase to her dorm room. It was too much.

Katie.

Not telling her parents.

Not being sure where she stood with Fred.

Harry’s spiel about Malfoy.

She needed today to be over.

Hermione didn’t even bother to change out of her damp clothes. She launched herself onto her mattress and waited for sleep to overtake her.

And she waited.

And waited.

Waited…

Then she remembered that nightmares come when you sleep. Then she fought to keep her eyes open. She stared at the curtains that hung loosely around her bed. Her eyes going in and out of focus as she studied the weave of the cloth.

She lost track of time as she lied there. Soon, her quiet was disturbed by footsteps and giggles.

_Oh, thank God, a distraction._

Hermione didn’t engage with the two girls who entered the room, but if she knew Lavender and Parvati, they would be able to gossip for hours before going to bed.

“I’m so mad! I waited around Hogsmeade all day for a chance to run into him, and I never even saw him.” Lavender’s voice carried through Hermione’s curtains.

“Awww,” came Parvati’s teasing. “Were you hoping for a date at Madam Puddifoot’s?”

 _Boy drama, I can handle this…_ Hermione sighed in relief.

“I mean I certainly couldn’t take him to the Three Broomsticks. You know you can’t take a boy in there; all they do is check out Madam Rosmerta.”

“Pigs!”

“It’s not their fault! If she wouldn’t parade her tits around then you could have a decent conversation with a bloke in there!” Lavender was pacing the floor in front of her bed.

“You’re just jealous that hers are bigger than your!” Parvati was lounging on her own bed, giggling into a pillow.

“I’m not jealous—” Hermione heard a thump and a shriek and assumed that Parvati had been hit with a pillow—“mine are the perfect size, a nice little handful! I just wish he would notice them.”

“You have a decent chance now; his head isn’t shoved so far up her ass this year.”

“Madam Rosmerta?”

“No. _Her.”_ Parvati whispered the last part, like she didn’t want anyone to hear. But Hermione was the only other person in the room.

Hermione’s ears pricked up. _Who are they talking about?_

“She doesn’t deserve him.” Lavender joined in the whispering. “I’m so tired of seeing the hurt look in his eyes when she corrects him. What does he even see in her! They have nothing in common.”

“And _what_ do the two of you have in common?”

“We both like Quidditch!”

“Just because you like to watch him play Quidditch doesn’t mean that you like Quidditch.”

“His butt does look good in Quidditch pants. We’re both into Divination. I bet he even has true sight like Professor Trelawney.”

“He’s not even taking Divination this year.”

“Whose side are you on Parvati?”

“I’m on your side, but just because you have a crush on Ron Weasley doesn’t mean he’s got a crush on you too.”

Hermione bolted upright in bed. They were talking about Ron. They were talking about Ron’s butt. The two girls obviously knew Hermione was in the room, they just assumed she was asleep. She knew she couldn’t escape now without revealing that she’d heard everything.

She was trapped.

“It’s not fair,” whined Lavender. “She’s already smart, and she’s pretty, why does she get him too?”

“Maybe he likes her because she’s smart and pretty.” Another thud of the pillow accompanied Parvati’s statement.

“See, this is why I like Padma better!”

“Why do you like Padma more? She went to the Yule Ball with Ron! She’s also smart and pretty, maybe Ron will move on to her next.”

Lavender screamed.

“Shhhhh!” Parvati warned. “You’ll wake _her_!”

“I hope I did! She doesn’t deserve sleep. She doesn’t deserve Ron. Screw you, Hermione Granger!”

Hermione no longer cared what the two girls were saying. They thought Ron had a crush on her.

_That’s complete nonsense. Right? I would know if someone had a crush on me!_

Soon, Parvati and Lavender decided to go to bed, and once more Hermione was alone with the silence and her memories. She checked her watch, it was well after one in the morning. She’d already used her bottle of dreamless sleep, so there was no way she was going to sleep tonight anyway.

She dug through her trunk for something to occupy her time until sunrise. On top of her schoolbag was the letter from Fred.

_He and Katie were friends. He would want to know._

She picked up her self-inking quill and began writing.

_Sunday 20 October 1996_

_Dear Fred,_

_I don’t know if the Prophet has picked up the story yet, but there was an attack on a student today at Hogsmeade. It wasn’t Ginny, or Ron, or Harry; we’re fine. It was Katie Bell. She’s alive, she touched a cursed necklace and has been unconscious ever sense. They’ll probably be moving her to St. Mungo’s soon if she doesn’t wake up._

_I know you two were friends, maybe let Angelina and Alicia know too._

_I don’t want to burden you with the details, but Harry, Ron and I were there when it happened. She’s a fighter, she’s going to be okay._

_Harry’s under the impression that it was Malfoy. All I’ve been able to hear since it happened is crazier and crazier theories of how he managed to slip Katie the cursed necklace when he wasn’t even at Hogsmeade today._

_I know I’ve got no room to complain after what Katie’s going through, but today was bad from the start._

_This morning, Harry and Ron kept bragging about some new spell that Harr got out of his stupid textbook. The spell pulls someone into the air and holds them upside down._

_They thought it was hilarious._

_I didn’t find it funny at all, it sounded like that night at the World Cup when they had those poor people dangling in the sky._

_Of course, they told me I was overreacting._

_And now after what happened to Katie, it’s even less funny._

_You’ll be happy to know that I can now confirm that you and George have put Zonko’s out of business._

_We only managed to go into one store, and it was Honeyduke’s. We ran into Professor Slughorn and of course he tried to invite Harry to another one of the Slug Club meetings tomorrow night. Your brother turned into an absolute nightmare after that. Not even food could raise his spirits._

_(Off topic, but even now I’m still mad at him because I’m being kept away by Lavender and Parvati who keep talking about how cute his butt is…)_

_He was in such a bad mood that finally I suggested that we just go back to the castle. Why can’t he just be happy and support me for once. I go to practically all of his Quidditch practices and games. I mean I get it; he hates to be ignored and left out, but is it too much to ask that he not be a jealous, immature baby for once in his life?_

_Anyway, on the way back to school is when we ran into Katie and Leanne._

Hermione wanted to write about how she could still hear her screams. She wanted to say that she feared going to sleep because she knew what images were waiting for her to close her eyes. She wanted to tell Fred how horrible it had been.

But it wasn’t fair to put that on him. If she could keep that horror from another soul, then so be it.

_I’m worried about Harry. Hogwarts doesn’t feel as safe anymore, and this is the only home he has._

_I know this letter was a bit of a downer, but I wanted to let you know what happened to Katie today._

_Sorry,_

_Hermione._

_P.S. sorry I didn’t know what your middle name was, but you can’t get mad since you don’t know what it is either._

Hermione sealed the letter and set it off to the side of her bed. When it was a reasonable hour, she’d see if by some miracle Whoudini was still in the owlery. Until then, she grabbed her needles and continued to grow the Monstrosity.

***

The wind pierced all her layers. It was cold, oh so miserably cold. Hermione was walking with Harry and Ron along the road back to the school. The trio huddled together as they walked in an attempt to share their limited warmth.

Hermione saw movement out of the corner of her eye. A black shadow rushed between the trees. The boys didn’t seem to notice anything, they kept walking. She stopped in her tracks and turned to where she had seen the motion.

There wasn’t anything there.

The boys pulled her ahead. Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, she turned to her right and saw another shadow dart between the trees at the edge of the road.

“There’s something in the forest,” she warned.

“You’re just seeing things,” said Ron.

“It’s all in your head,” replied Harry.

They each grabbed one of her arms and began walking faster. As they neared the castle, the shadows in the trees moved faster also, there were more of them now. Before they could make it inside the gate, their path was blocked when the shadows ran across the road.

They weren’t shadows.

They were Death Eaters.

One of the masked figures strode forward, “Well, if it isn’t the Half-blood, the Mudblood and the Blood Traitor.”

The trio stopped walking, Ron and Harry still clutched her arms. Hermione was about to yank her arms free and make a run for it when the lead Death Eater raised his wand.

Hermione couldn’t move.

She strained her eyes to see what was happening to Ron and Harry. They were frozen too.

“Thank you for coming,” the Death Eater intoned. “We’re here to celebrate our victory, and of course we couldn’t start without you.”

Dark laughter went up from the crowed of masked faces. Wands from all directions pointed at the trio. Hermione felt ropes wrap around her wrists and ankles. The ropes tightened as she felt them pulling her.

Pulling her higher.

Into the air.

The first spell was removed, and Hermione could move again. The Death Eaters wanted to watch her struggle against her bindings. She pulled against them and they grew tighter.

She was above the crowd now, her face pointed up at the sky, her arms and legs stretched wide like she was on the rack.

“ _Crucio_!”

She felt the electricity run up and down her spine. Her arms and legs spasmed, the ropes pulling tighter as she writhed. Her head whipped back, and she screamed.

Hermione bolted upright in her bed. Her arms and legs tangled in her blanket that was drenched in sweat. Her skin still tingled with what her brain had tried to approximate as the pain from the _Cruciatus_ curse.

There was a ringing in her ears she couldn’t understand, and her throat felt raw. She was still screaming. She forced her mouth closed to stop the screams. Her heart was thudding in her chest faster than she count.

She sucked in air through her nose until her lungs hurt, before slowly letting it back out. It took several minutes, but eventually her body realized it had all been a dream.

Hermione decided that Madam Pomfrey was a bitch.

The older woman decided that Hermione was coming into the Hospital wing too often for Dreamless Sleep potion. She was worried Hermione was developing a reliance on it.

Hermione was cutoff.

Two options lie before her: stay awake or endure the nightmares. She opted to stay awake, and for awhile it was working.

She knitted through Saturday night and into Sunday morning.

Sunday, she had plenty of reading and essays to keep her busy well until Monday morning.

Monday was her busiest day of the week, there wasn’t time to sleep on a good day, and then she had Slug Club that evening. That’s when she noticed the twitching in her fingers.

Her body needed sleep to function.

Before she headed off to Professor Slughorn’s office, she had been rejected by Madam Pomfrey. It made the talk by Gwenog Jones all the worse. Her twitches had become full shakes, and she’d poured her drink all over McLaggen.

The only way he’d accept her apology was if she agreed to go to the Christmas party with him. Hermione, in her sleep deprived stupor, agreed.

That was when she realized she needed to sleep. 72 hours was too long, hence the nightmare.

Hermione untangled her legs from the blankets and set off for the bathroom. The bottles in her mind rattled for attention. She carefully closed the cabinet and ignored them.

After her cold shower, she studied her face in the mirror. Her eyes were wrapped in dark circles. Hermione grabbed her wand and glamoured them away. Her friends didn’t need to know she wasn’t sleeping again.

Harry had his lessons with Dumbledore to worry about.

Ron was too worked up about his first Quidditch game.

Ginny was dealing with her boyfriend.

Hermione didn’t want them to worry about her too.

“I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I can do this.”

When she had finished packing all her stuff away, she whispered an apology to the house elves who would be cleaning her room later. It was still too early to leave for breakfast, so she decided to wait in the Common Room for the boys to get up.

As she descended the stairs, she heard voices in the Common Room.

_Who else is up this early?_

“You idiot!” a familiar voice whisper yelled.

_Is that Ginny? Who’s she talking too?_

Hermione reached the bottom of the staircase. “Ginny is that you?”

“Shit.” There was a pop, but when Hermione got to her, Ginny was sitting alone with her pygmy puff in one of the couches by the fire.

“Who were you talking to?” Hermione asked.

“Arnold here. He’s made a mess of my bed this morning. What are you doing up—” Ginny tapped on the couch next to her for Hermione to sit –“are the nightmares back?”

Hermione nervously sat down on the sofa, she didn’t want to lie to the girl, she really didn’t, but the next words out of her mouth were, “No, I just kept getting woken up by Lavender’s snoring.”

Ginny, smarter than anyone ever gave her credit for, stared into Hermione’s eyes, looking for the telltale signs of someone who hasn’t been sleeping. Luckily, Hermione’s glamours held under the intense scrutiny. Ginny, seemingly satisfied, gave Hermione a pleased smile.

Hermione couldn’t return it.

The two girls sat in silence. It was obvious that Ginny wanted to say more, but she knew Hermione well enough to know not to push. When Hermione was ready, she’d talk.

Hermione was thankful for a friend like Ginny.

As the minutes ticked by, Ginny began to fidget in her seat. Whatever it was she wanted to talk to Hermione about was getting to her. Hermione sighed and nodded at Ginny. Silent permission to ask whatever it was that was bothering her so much.

“Hermione, there’s something—” Ginny’s sentence was interrupted by feet thundering down the stairs. Students began flooding into the Common Room on their way to breakfast, Harry and Ron included – “We’ll talk about it later.”

The two boys walked over to join the girls. Ron still had the look of someone who wasn’t fully awake yet. He all but collapsed onto the couch next to Hermione. As if on cue, Lavender Brown walked past them, anger, betrayal, hurt, and jealously all clearly evident on her face.

Something bubbled up inside Hermione.

_It isn’t my fault Lavender. If you want him so bad, you make a move!_

The feeling didn’t go away as the four friends headed through the portrait hole. The bottle that Hermione crammed her anger into was rattling furiously, demanding to be let out. She ignored it.

They were now filing into the Great Hall. Dean had caught up with them and was pulling Ginny to where he usually sat with Seamus. Hermione couldn’t hear what they were saying over the clinking of glass in her head.

It looked like Dean lost whatever argument they were having, because Ginny sat down across from Hermione as if she did so every morning. Harry and Ron sat on either side of her. Ron instantly came to life as food appeared on the plates in the middle of the table.

Hermione grabbed her usual toast and jam, her appetite hadn’t returned since her nightmare, but she was able to force it down. Another bottle started to rattle in her head at the thought of her latest nightmare.

Next to her, Harry’s leg was bouncing up and down beneath the table. Harry’s face mirrored what Ginny’s had looked like not so long ago up in the Common Room. He desperately wanted to talk about something.

_Oh right, he had his meeting with Dumbledore last night._

Hermione nudged him and his leg stilled. “How did it go last night?”

“Not now, too many people around. We’ll talk on the way to Herbology” His leg started up again.

A third bottle now joined the cacophony in her head.

Hermione didn’t hear the hoots and screeches of the owls when they entered the Great Hall. She didn’t hear when Ron cursed as the _Daily Prophet_ landed in his scrambled eggs. She didn’t hear Whoudini land in front of her.

It was a surprise when she reached for her pumpkin juice and was nipped on the finger by the impatient bird. The shock silenced the noise from the bottles.

_It’s Tuesday. He’s back to responding on schedule?_

Hope dared to raise its head.

Hermione took the letter and handed Whoudini a slice of bacon from Ron’s plate. She ignored Ron’s protest as she tore open the gold wax WWW seal. Her heart melted as she began to read Fred’s garbled handwriting.

_Dear Panda,_

It would seem that she had a nickname now. Hope raised higher.

_Thank you for letting me know about Katie. It would appear that Dumbledore is keeping a tight lid on it, because there haven’t been any mentions of it in the Prophet. I guess if parents read that a student had been attacked, they’d be knocking down the doors to get their kids home. _

Fear began rattling its bottle. Images of the basilisk Hermione had seen in the mirror rose to the surface of her mind. She pushed it back down and kept reading.

_I read through your letter a few times. I’m sorry that you were there when it happened. I can only imagine how hard that must have been to see. Which is going to make what I’m going to say next very difficult._

_Lay off Ron._

Rage’s bottle cracked.

_The poor bloke has been living in someone’s shadow his whole life. He’s had to compete with Bill, Charlie, and Percy’s legacy since he was born. Ron showed up to Hogwarts for his first year with Bill’s old robes, using Charlie’s old, broken wand, and only got Percy’s pet rat for comfort. George and I tried our best to make things easier for him by lowering every professor’s expectations, but of course the idiot had to be best friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Nothing he does will ever be on his own merit. Every time he does something right it’s because ‘Harry Potter was there’ or ‘Hermione helped you do it’. It takes a blow to his confidence. You saw how bad he was at quidditch last year, until he got a grip on himself._

_Now, can my brother be an absolute tosser? Yes. Is Ron a bit childish with his emotions? Absolutely. I know you probably don’t deserve to have him act that way towards you, but I just want you to know where he’s coming from, because once again he’s fallen into yours and Harry’s shadows with this Slug Club thing._

Hermione felt magic crackle in her fingers.

_Honestly, I think that’s the reason why the git’s so tall. He got tired of wearing hand-me-downs and subconsciously used his magic to make himself taller, so he won’t be in anyone’s shadow anymore. But that’s another subject entirely. Me and George have a bet going to see how tall he’ll get before graduation._

_And you’re mad at Lavender for talking about Ron’s butt? Who cares if another girl likes him! Merlin, Hermione, are you jealous of Ron?_

Rejection cracked open and spilled to the floor.

_As for the book, I don’t know if it’s all that dangerous. As long as the book isn’t thinking for itself then I don’t see why he shouldn’t use it. I had lots of used books with notes written in the margins. Probably some old over achiever who thought he knew better than the publisher. Sounds like the two of you might be related. You sure you’re a muggle born after all and not the descendant of a squib? I know you’re not asking for my advice, but I say let Harry have his fun. Poor kid’s got enough on his plate being The Chosen One, he doesn’t need to worry about his potions grade on top of that._

The bottle that held Anger and Rage shattered.

_If you are still worried about him testing out the spells from the book have him write to us and we’ll send him some of our shield clothing. Oh wait, you don’t want us sending anything else to the school. I guess The Chosen One will have to suffer the consequences on his own head then, and it’ll be all your fault because you wouldn’t let WWW save him._

_Some friend you are!_

_Fred Flobberworm/Grindylow Weasley_

_Co-Found Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_

The letter burst into flames in Hermione’s hands. Cinders falling onto her breakfast plate. She pushed on the table and the bench she, Harry and Ron were sitting on moved away with a screech against the stone floor.

“We’re leaving,” she announced, and the boys got up to join her.

Everyone at the Gryffindor table looked confused at what had just happened. Everyone except Ginny.

***

_Of course, Fred Weasley would take their side. I should have known better. Yes, Ron has had a rough life, but that’s not my fault, I shouldn’t be the one to take the brunt of his anger. And how dare he say that I don’t care about Harry’s safety. Does he even know what I’ve been through to protect him?_

Hermione steamed as they waited inside the greenhouse for Herbology to start. Harry had told them what Dumbledore showed him last night and it had distracted her for a little bit. But now, as they waited, all the anger and hurt washed back.

They donned their protective gear and got ready to attack the Snargaluff plant.

“So how was Slughorn’s latest party?” Harry asked.

_Oh, so now you want to know how they’ve been. Maybe you should come instead of leaving me alone to fend for myself!_

“Oh, it was quite fun, really,” she said instead. _Make him jealous._ “I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely _fawns_ over McLaggen because he’s so well-connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones.” Hermione smiled when she heard Ron gasp in surprise.

“Gwenog Jones? _The_ Gwenog Ones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies?”

“That’s right,” Hermione replied in a sing song voice, glad Ron had taken the bait. “Personally, I thought she was a bit full of herself, but –” Hermione stopped at the correction from Professor Sprout. It didn’t matter though, Hermione had her small victory already.

“…should’ve used Muffliato, Harry.”

Hermione saw red.

_How dare they talk about that stupid book and the stupid spells in front of me again!_

She was out for blood this time. She dove into the plant, needing to strangle something. After fighting for her life, she pulled back her arm with the treasured pod. She smirked and continued her war against Ron and Harry.

“Anyway, Slughorn’s going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there’s no way you’ll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come.”

Harry’s groan was music to her ears.

“And this is another party just for Slughorn’s favorites, is it?” Ron asked while trying to squeeze juice from the pod.

“Just for the Slug Club, yes.”

“At least I’m not a part of the Slug Club, who’d want to be a slug?” Ron’s anger was palpable. The pod shot across the class and Harry went to get it back.

“Look, _I_ didn’t make up the name ‘Slug Club’—” Hermione kept pushing. She wanted someone else to be as angry as she was.

“‘ _Slug Club’”_ Ron said it like a curse word. “It’s pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don’t you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug—”

 _Show no mercy._ “We’re allowed to bring guests, and I was _going_ to ask you to come, but if you think it’s that stupid then I won’t bother.”

Ron stood a little straighter. His voice softened, “You were going to ask me?”

 _Go for the kill._ “Yes,” she all but screamed at him. “But obviously if you’d rather I _hooked up with McLaggen…”_

Hermione saw it then. The moment Ron’s world came crashing down. She saw the twisted pain that crossed his face. She saw his shoulders slump with the weight of rejection. She saw the future he wanted dissolve into mist.

_Lavender was right. First time for everything._

Hermione liked the feeling of power. She liked causing someone else to feel as badly as she did. She felt her lips curl in a wicked smile as she dove back into the plant for another pod.

_Fuck Harry Potter and his stupid textbook and fuck him for abandoning me to the Slug Club meetings alone._

_Fuck Ron Weasley and his jealous attitude. Fuck him for pushing me away when he can’t even admit that he wants me._

_Fuck Fred Weasley for taking their side. Fuck Fred Weasley for saying I don’t care. Fuck Fred Weasley for thinking I don’t know that his brother has had a hard life. Fuck Fred Weasley for saying I sound like the Half-blood Prince. Fuck Fred Weasley and his stupid, immature joke shop._

_And Fuck. This. Fucking. Plant!_


	11. Chapter 11

This should have been the greatest week of Hermione’s life. She was caught up on all of her classwork and was even getting ahead on her next assigned readings. Harry was unable to derive pleasure from reading his Potions textbook, as he just listlessly paged through it during class. Ron, who hadn’t spoken to Hermione since their fight in herbology, was up to his eyeballs in self doubt over his abilities as a keeper, and the whole team had turned against him.

She should have felt as gleeful as a kneezle in a canary cage.

But…

She was only caught up on her work because she had so much free time now that she wasn’t speaking to her friends.

She was getting ahead on her reading because she was having nightmares again and couldn’t sleep.

Harry had scheduled so many extra practices to help Ron out that she didn’t even have Ginny to talk to anymore.

And then there was the persistent feeling that something was missing. Hermione had refused to acknowledge it all week. Not since she’d burned up Fred’s letter in the Great Hall on Tuesday and then never wrote him back.

And she didn’t plan on writing him back either.

But Fred isn’t what was missing from her life. You can’t miss something that you never had. Fred’s last letter had made it abundantly clear that she had been mistaken as to where things were headed.

And so, Hermione once again found herself sitting in her bed at the end of a long day with the curtains drawn. She cast the _Silencio_ to keep her screams from her roommates. She wished the spell worked both ways, so that she wouldn’t have to listen to Parvati and Lavender continue to gossip about Ron.

But the universe wasn’t kind. And tomorrow was the first Quidditch match of the season. Lavender was in rare form in her soliloquy of Ron’s “adorable ass in his Quidditch pants”.

Hermione wished that she’d never bothered to walk around with that mirror in second year and had just let the Basilisk kill her.

She’s just about to succumb to her nightmares when an errant thought flickers through her mind.

_I wonder if Fleur had trouble sleeping after the Triwizard Tournament?_

The cogs in Hermione’s brain start churning, and soon she’s fished out a sheet of parchment and her special quill from her bag. She stared at the enchanted feather from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes in her hand before slowly putting it back in her bag and grabbing a regular quill and an inkwell that she had to get from her trunk.

_Friday 25 October 1996_

_Dear Fleur,_

_I know that you said if I ever needed someone to talk to, that you’d be there for me. I’m taking you up on that offer. It’s been a hellish year. I’m just going to start at the beginning, otherwise this isn’t going to make much sense out of context._

Hermione wrote about the night at the Department of Mysteries. She wrote about the painful reunion with her parents, and the fight they had that night. She wrote about how she’d been waiting for Harry to have an emotional breakdown over the death of Sirius all summer.

She grabbed another sheet of parchment.

She apologized profusely for how she’d treated Fleur before they started talking. She wrote about the nightmares. She wrote about the panic attacks she’d had once she returned to school. She made sure that she added in another thank you for the amazing present that Fleur had sent her.

She added another piece of parchment to her stack.

She wrote about making up with her parents, but how she felt there were still things she had to keep from them. She wrote about Harry’s textbook, sure that Fleur would finally be the person to take her side in the matter. She wrote about how Ron had been acting weird towards her and then about Lavender’s comments.

_And normally I’d be telling Ginny all of this stuff because she helped me out at the beginning of the term when I wasn’t sleeping because of the nightmares. But now, she’s too busy with her boyfriend and Quidditch and even if she weren’t, I’d feel weird because of what’s going on with Ron and Harry and I guess I’m afraid that she’s going to take their side._

_Because that’s what always happens, anytime there’s a disagreement between me and the boys they gang up on me._

She wrote about all that she’d seen when Katie was attacked. She wrote about how the nightmares were getting worse. Then there was only one thing left that she desperately needed to tell someone.

_And there’s this other thing that’s bothering me too. Back on my birthday I got a present from a guy that left Hogwarts already. We’ve been sending each other letters ever since then. And I don’t know what happened, I thought we were friends, but then I realized that I like him more than that._

_So, I kind of started to tell him about the things that were bothering me, because I was hoping that he’d take an interest in my personal life. Maybe get to know me better._

_I told him about Harry’s book, and he thinks I’m overreacting. I told him about the way Ron’s been treating me and he said to cut him some slack. I told him about what Lavender said about Ron and he accused me of being jealous._

_Then I told him about what happened to Katie, because they were friends and he never asked how I was doing or how it was affecting me, even though I told him I was there when it happened. He even insinuated that I don’t care enough about Harry to protect him! I was so mad that I burned the letter. I haven’t written him back._

_I don’t know if I ever want to hear from him again._

_Is it too much to ask that someone be on my side for a change?_

_I feel lost. I don’t know if I’m looking for advice or just someone to listen and tell me everything is going to be okay._

_Sorry to put you through all that,_

_Hermione_

Hermione flexed the fingers on her right hand to alleviate the cramp that had settled in. She carefully fanned the pages before her to dry the ink. A glance at her watch told her that it was past curfew and she’d have to head to the owlery before breakfast if she wanted to mail her letter before the match.

Satisfied that the ink wouldn’t smear, she gathered her pages, quill, and inkwell to stow in her trunk. As she was placing the inkwell inside, she noticed it was empty. She grabbed her wand to vanish it, but something shifted in her stomach.

_I’m empty too, am I good for anything now, or are they just going to vanish me too?_

Hermione turned the small glass jar around in her fingers. Before she could stop herself, she placed on the windowsill by her headboard. She smiled at the ink-stained glass as it reflected the moonlight, hope coming from nowhere.

_That’s the thing about being empty, now you can be filled with something better._

***

Hermione didn’t sleep well that night, but that wasn’t anything new. She finally got out of bed at first light, ran through her routine and headed to the owlery. As she walked, she struggled to fit the stack of parchment into an envelope.

 _Why did I decide to tell her my whole life story?_ Hermione huffed as she fumbled with the paper. By the time she made it to the owlery, she’d managed to haphazardly seal the envelope. She gave it a disapproving glare.

_It’ll have to do…_

She didn’t know if Fleur was still visiting with the Weasleys or if she’d gone home to France. She needed a bird who could make the trip if the latter were true. Hermione walked up to one of the school’s owls who looked like they could handle an international delivery.

As she approached the bird, it puffed up its feathers in that way birds do to make themselves look fiercer. Hermione had to stifle a giggle so she wouldn’t offend the poor creature. She reached out to attach the letter to its leg, but the owl was having none of it. It jumped back from her approaching hand and snipped at her fingers.

“What’s got you so worked up?” She asked as the owl squawked and continued to nip at her. She jerked her hand away to avoid the beak and talons currently trying to attack her.

As she turned away, her question was silently answered. Perched behind her, looking equally puffed up and fierce, was Whoudini. Now that she had Hermione’s attention, her feathers flattened, and she held her leg out waiting for the letter to be attached.

“I’m sorry girl, this one isn’t for Fred.” Whoudini nuzzled against Hermione’s outstretched hand. “No, Whoudini. This letter isn’t for you to deliver. It’s going to my friend Fleur.”

The bird didn’t move away.

“F-L-E-U-R not F-R-E-D.” Whoudini still held out her foot. “I can’t send you to someone else, you’re not my bird. I’m also not writing Fred back, so you can just go ahead and fly back home.”

Whoudini stood her ground. Hermione sighed and decided to be the bigger person and walked away to another bird. As soon as Hermione reached another one of the nesting boxes for a school owl, Whoudini began screeching.

And she wouldn’t stop. Not until Hermione came back.

“You’re not going to let me use another bird, are you?”

Whoudini nuzzled her hand.

“You’re going to take it to the right person, right? Fleur Delacour, not Fred Weasley?”

Whoudini chirruped in response.

“Thanks, I guess.” Hermione attached the thick envelope to Whoudini’s leg and scratched her head before sending her off. She watched, like she always did, as the bird’s silhouette faded into the distance.

_Great… Now I’ve officially argued with a bird._

She grabbed her things and headed for the Great Hall. By the time she reached the large doors, she saw Harry and Ron head in for breakfast. She let them have their space. She didn’t want to talk to them anyway.

As soon as the two walked in, they were greeted with a deafening roar of applause from the Gryffindor table. It was loud enough to block out the hisses from the Slytherins. Hermione rolled her eyes.

_Why are they cheering for Ron, he still hasn’t gotten out of his head yet! I hope he misses every save. What was that ditty that Malfoy came up with last year?_

“Cheer up, Ron! I know you’ll be brilliant!” Lavender’s voice reached Hermione as she walked towards her spot with the boys. They couldn’t take her spot away from her.

Hermione absentmindedly hummed along to Weasley is Our King as she sat down across from the two.

“How are you both feeling?” She didn’t really care, but after her encounter with Whoudini, she no longer felt like arguing with anyone. Her eyes bored holes into the back of Ron’s head.

“Fine,” Harry replied. He was fidgeting with something below the table. Hermione turned her eyes to focus on his hands and saw a familiar vial slip back into his clenched fist. “There you go, Ron. Drink up.”

She quickly connected the dots.

_Oh, you rat bastard!_

“Don’t drink that, Ron!” She slammed her palms down on the table.

“Why not?” Ron narrowed his eyes. There was an unspoken _so now we’re talking?_ in his gaze.

“You just put something in that drink.” She pointed her finger at Harry in accusation.

“Excuse me?” Harry would never win an award for his acting skills.

“You heard me,” Hermione heard the familiar rattling of glass inside her head as emotions were raring for release. “I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand right now!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry shoved his hand into his pocket. Hermione swore he was grinning.

“Ron, I warn you, don’t drink it!” The rattling of glass in her head got louder.

“Stop bossing me around, Hermione.” And he chugged the whole cup, slamming it back on the table when he was done.

She glared at Harry. “You should be expelled for that. I’d never have believed it of you, Harry!” she hissed in whisper.

“Hark who’s talking. Confunded anyone lately?” he hissed back.

Hermione pushed back from the table, the bench scraping loudly against the stone floor. This was becoming part of a routine for her. Looks like they were back to ignoring each other. She stormed away from the Great Hall.

She stormed all the way to the Quidditch stands, huffing the whole time. It was the last place she wanted to be. The stands were slowly filling. She picked a seat near the middle rows and watched students fill in.

Of course, Lavender and Parvati had to sit right in front of her. Hermione did her best to ignore them, but then the worst thing imaginable happened.

Cormac McLaggen sat next to her.

_God, whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry. This isn’t fair!_

Soon the Gryffindors and the Slytherins mounted their brooms and Madam Hooch tossed the Quaffle into the air to start the match. Almost instantly, McLaggen entered into his own Quidditch commentary for anyone who would listen.

“I wonder if Potter’s going to embarrass us today. I know for a fact that most of the Gryffindor’s are mad at him for picking all of his friends to fill the roster instead of going for talent.”

Then Lavender’s star-eyed rave review of Ron began.

“He looks so confident today. I know he heard me wish him luck in the Great Hall at breakfast. He’s gonna do so well today! Oh! Look at him blocking like a professional!”

Between Lavender’s praise, McLaggen’s incessant talking, and Zacharias Smith on the loudspeaker, Hermione was having trouble breathing. The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers as Ron blocked a shot.

Hermione placed her hand over her heart to ground herself. She felt the steady tempo increase. The thudding traveled through her hand, up her arm, and into her head. Images of an old nightmare rushed to the surface as the Gryffindor chasers flew by.

_You don’t belong here._

Hermione planted her feet firmly on the wooden stands. She pressed her hand against her chest, willing her heart to return to its normal pace. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth.

She wasn’t going to be defeated here, not again.

She stood with the rest of the Gryffindors to cheer when the chasers scored again. Knowing she’d be drowned out by the roar of the crowd, she added, “I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I can do this.”

She could sit with people she didn’t care for while her friends were flying around on their brooms. She could watch Ron swagger and strut from the opposite end of the pitch, much to Lavender’s delight. She could control her reactions to what was going on around her.

And she did.

Hermione turned her gaze back on the game just in time to watch Harry dive for what could only be the Snitch. He was an arm length behind the Slytherin seeker. He wasn’t going to make it. Hermione saw Harry’s mouth move, he was yelling something to the other seeker, and the seeker in green pulled back.

Harry rushed forward and wrapped his hands around the Snitch ending the game. Hermione stood and cheered with the rest of her house.

_Hope it was worth it Harry, because as soon as McGonagall finds out about the Liquid Luck you slipped Ron, this’ll be the last game you play._

No matter how mad she was at Harry and Ron, she’d never rat them out like that. But that’s the thing about secrets, they always get found out in the end.

The Gryffindor players flew down to the ground and were hugging and cheering each other. The team made their way to the changing rooms before heading back to what would surely be an amazing party back in the Common Room.

She made her way down the stands and towards the changing rooms. She waited until all the other players left, giving them a ‘good job’ or a ‘congratulations’ as they passed. Ginny got a hug.

Hermione walked in when she knew it was only Ron and Harry left inside. She unwound her scarf, knotting it in her hands. Her confidence from earlier fading fast.

“I want a word with you, Harry. You shouldn’t have done it. You heard Slughorn, it’s illegal.”

“What are going to do, turn us in?” Ron sneered at her.

Hermione puffed up her chest. She wasn’t, she knew she wasn’t. Ron should know she’d never do that.

Maybe he didn’t know her at all.

“What are you two talking about?” Harry said before she could rip into Ron.

Her anger rounded onto Harry now. “You know perfectly well what we’re talking about! You spiked Ron’s juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!” She was breathing heavy again.

“No, I didn’t,” He was grinning now. Hermione was seeing red.

“Yes you did, Harry, and that’s why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!” She was nearly shouting now.

“I didn’t put it in!” He fished inside his pocket and pulled out the bottle that Professor Slughorn had given him.

It was sill sealed with was.

Hermione’s mouth hung open in shock. Her mind racing to catch up to what her eyes were seeing in front of her.

“I wanted Ron to think I’d done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking.”

 _You tricked me! You used me, because you knew Ron would do the opposite of whatever I told him to!_ Hermione didn’t know whether to be angry or impressed. Then Ron opened his mouth and decided for her.

Anger.

“ _You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that’s why he saved everything!”_ He was mocking her. _“_ See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!”

Pain.

“I never said you couldn’t—Ron, _you_ thought you’d been given it too!” Tears were blurring her vision already. Ron brushed past her on his way towards the party. She needed to get away from here. She couldn’t let him see how much he’d hurt her.

_Fuck Ron Weasley!_

“Er, shall… shall we go up to the party, then?”

_Fuck Harry Potter!_

“You go! I’m _sick_ of Ron at the moment, I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done…” She took a deep breath, rubbed the tears out of her eyes, and stormed out of the changing room.

***

Hermione knew she wouldn’t be welcome up in the Common Room. She’d made a name for herself early on as a rule enforcer and knew that her presence would only sour the mood. She opted to take the long way back to the castle.

_Why do they hold it against me, I’m just doing my job as a prefect! I bet Ron’s up there partying and he’s a prefect too. Yeah, well some of us take our jobs seriously._

She decided on one lap around the lake before heading inside. She wrapped her scarf more snuggly around her, the cold air whipping off the still water.

_What did I ever do to Ron to make him so upset with me? Is Lavender right and he’s had a crush on me this whole time? How is that my fault? I’m not required to like anyone back! And even if he did like me, he should have said something! This is like fourth year all over again._

And then it clicked.

All the snatches of arguments she’d heard between Ron and Ginny were about Ginny snogging Dean. Ron had been mumbling about Krum all week. Hermione had just assumed that it was Quidditch related, but it wasn’t.

It was about Hermione.

Ron was jealous of Hermione.

Waves of confusion crashed over her. She felt sympathy because she had a crush on someone who obviously didn’t like her back. She felt angry because it wasn’t her fault he was jealous. She felt betrayal because he shouldn’t be treating her this way.

She sighed as she reached the castle. The tears were still coming down her cheeks, she brushed them away again. By the time she’d reached the Fat Lady, her eyes were dry. She was going to find Ron, and they were going to talk through this. She cared about their friendship enough to fight for it.

After shed said the password, she blended into the sea of red and gold that filled the Common Room. As she’d expected, the party goers were none too happy to see her, quickly hiding whatever it was they were drinking behind their backs.

 _Let them have their fun tonight._ She put her hands up in front of her to say, ‘it’s cool’. It was unconvincing and none of her fellow students looked like they trusted her.

_This was a mistake._

Not even Crookshanks was happy to see her, he was too busy following around Ginny with Arnold sitting on her shoulder.

_Please don’t go after another Weasley pet! Ginny’s the last friend I have right now…_

And that’s when she saw them. Off in the corner, in plain view of all of their housemates, Ron and Lavender were kissing.

No kissing was the wrong word for what Hermione was witnessing. There were arms moving and hands grasping in a rather uncomfortable looking display.

Hermione felt a twinge of something she decided was jealousy. Not because she wanted to be the one kissing Ron, but because there was another redhead she desperately wanted to wrap her arms around.

_Oh, how the tables have turned._

Hermione turned around and ducked back out of the portrait hole.

She went into the first empty classroom she found in the hallway. She situated herself on top of the teacher desk at the front of the room. Her legs crossed in front of her, she leaned back on her arms.

_It’s so quiet in here._

Quiet was the opposite of what she needed right now. She needed a distraction from what was clawing at her insides. She pulled her wand from her pocket and cast the first spell that came to mind. A canary came out of the tip and started chirping happily.

_That’s better but look at how lonely you are. Everyone needs some friends._

With a few more waves of her wand, the lone canary was joined by six more. Her seven birds gathered into a circle and flew above her head. She closed her eyes and listened to their bird song.

The thing in her chest calmed. That’s when Harry walked in. He eyed the birds in the air with something like pride. She softened towards him. It was obvious that he’d gone looking for her.

“Oh, hello Harry, I was just practicing.” Her voice wavered.

 _I’m sorry for being mad at you. Thank you for trying._ She hoped her eyes conveyed the message her mouth couldn’t.

“Yeah… they’re—er—really good…” She knew why he was there. He knew that she’d seen Ron and Lavender. Hermione knew that Harry had reached the wrong conclusion as to why that was upsetting her.

But he was there for her, the rest didn’t matter.

“Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations.” The image of the two of them writhing against the wall brought the beast inside her back to life.

“Er… does he?”

_Bless you Harry, but you’re useless sometimes._

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see him. He wasn’t exactly hiding it—”

The door burst open and there was Ron holding hands with Lavender, obviously looking for somewhere a little more private than the Common Room.

“Oh,” was all Ron could manage when he saw Harry and Hermione.

“Oops!” Lavender managed as she slipped out, but not before she made eye contact with Hermione and winked.

The rage bottle shattered again.

Hermione tried to keep a lid on things. She wanted to be the bigger person. She wanted to give Ron a chance to apologize for his behavior earlier. She wanted the opportunity to explain how she was feeling.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Hermione got off the desk and stood tall, the birds still flying around her head like a halo. The longer she stared at Ron, the more his features started to shift. He looked shorter all the way across the room. Her tears blurred the outline of his body and Ron looked thicker than he usually did.

But it was that grin.

That stupid grin that was plastered across his face that truly made him look like someone else. Someone Hermione refused to think about right now.

He looked like Fred, and it broke her heart.

She had to get away from him.

“You shouldn’t leave Lavender waiting outside,” Hermione whispered. “She’ll wonder where you’ve gone.”

Her spine ramrod straight, she left Harry and Ron in the room. Before she got too far away something prickled at the back of her mind. It wasn’t even her voice, it was _his_.

_Merlin, Hermione, are you jealous of Ron?_

She whirled around on the redhead who was just a stand in for his older brother. He was far from innocent and deserved it just as much.

“ _Oppungo_!” she screamed.

The birds descended on Ron. His cries followed her down the corridor as she climbed back in the portrait hole.

_That’s what you get Fred._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little later than I usually post, it's been a very busy day!  
> Thank you to everyone who's been commenting on this story. Y'all are the reason I've been going strong with this project!  
> Don't know if y'all have been have been following the weather down in the south (if you couldn't tell from the y'all I'm a southerner) we froze! Me and my family survived without losing power or bursting pipes so that was a blessing.


	12. Chapter 12

Halloween came and went. There was no troll in the dungeon. No Death Day Party that ended with someone being petrified. Completely absent of a convicted murder trying to break into Gryffindor tower. No feast welcoming students from other schools for a tournament that would turn deadly. A complete lack of whatever it was Umbridge had been trying to do.

Just a regular Thursday.

More than a week since Hermione had heard from Fred, but there was absolutely no way Hermione was keeping track of that.

She sat in her bed up in Gryffindor Tower with the curtains drawn. Her planner sat perched on her lap. She turned the page from October to November. Hermione looked at all the notes and deadlines she’d already scribbled onto the pages.

She wasn’t the same girl as she had been when she’d planned out November. Ever since her letter to Fleur, Hermione felt different. She’d finally gotten the chance to pour her heart out completely to someone and it had helped.

Then there were her revelations about Fred and Ron. Hermione had confronted her feelings for Fred, and although Ron suffered the most because of it, she had felt a weight lift off of her.

She was empty, but not in an unfeeling, cold way.

Tabula rasa.

She was a blank slate.

“ _Scourgify.”_ Now her schedule was blank too. She grabbed her special quill, no use letting it go to waste, and smiled as she filled in the boxes for the new month.

She was a new person. Things were about to change.

***

Saturday morning found Hermione trying a new tactic. She’d been woken up by yet another nightmare, but it wasn’t as intense as all the others had been. Things were getting better, hence the new strategy.

She sat on her bed, in the predawn haze, and stared at the blank stack of parchment before her. She picked up the pages and brought them to her face, inhaling the calming scent.

_Right, here we go._

Hermione had figured that since her nightmares were getting better since she’d written Fleur and told her everything, that it might help if she wrote it all down once and for all. Not in the emotionally charged format that she’d sent Fleur and had spoken about with Ginny, but from a cut and dry academic standpoint.

Her special quill poised above the page, Hermione took a calming breath and began to write what had happened. She had carefully closed the door on the glass bottles that held her emotions. There was no blame, there was no fear, there was no anger, only facts.

She wrote until the sun peaked over the Forbidden Forest. She wrote until her back ached from hunching over on her bed. She wrote until her fingers cramped around her quill and she had to stop for a few seconds to stretch out her joints. She wrote until her roommates woke up and started getting dressed. She wrote until her stomach started grumbling.

And she kept writing.

The light streamed in through the window and stretched across the floor. Crookshanks fell victim to their siren song and stretched out in their warmth. The scratch of quill on parchment lulled the cat into a deep sleep.

The stack of filled parchment grew as she detailed her past. With every line she wrote, the cabinet in her mind would rattle, but she kept the door closed on her emotions. The words flowed out of her until she had written down the whole account.

When the words finally stopped coming, she succumbed to the exhaustion. She fell back onto her pillows and breathed out the tension that had built up while she was working. Hermione closed her eyes and let go.

And then she slept.

***

“Oi, Hermione, you in here?”

Hermione rolled over in her bed. The floorboards creaked as whoever it was drew closer. Something was slid open and daylight streamed in. Hermione buried her face in her pillow.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“Ginny, go away. More sleep.” Hermione grumbled into her pillow.

“You’ve slept through lunch; now do you want my peace offering or not?”

Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched as she sat up. She breathed in through her nose and was greeted by the smell of meat and pastry. Her stomach growled.

“That smells amazing. You are forgiven.” Hermione reached out to take whatever it was Ginny had behind her back.

“Not so fast,” Ginny said as she stepped closer to Hermione. “Let me smell your breath first.”

Hermione cocked her eyebrow at her friend but opened her mouth to breathe onto Ginny’s face anyway. Ginny sniffed twice and nodded at Hermione, her curiosity satisfied. She pulled her arm out from behind her back and presented Hermione with whatever it was that smelled divine wrapped in a napkin.

Hermione wasted no time unwrapping the food and found two sausage rolls. She smiled up at Ginny as she bit into the flaky crust.

Ginny grabbed the stack of parchment off Hermione’s bed and sat down. She leafed through a few of the pages while Hermione ate.

“Sorry about the breath check. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t passed out drunk again.”

Hermione swallowed what was left of the first roll before answering. “It’s okay, I would probably be suspicious if I were in your situation. Don’t worry though, it was just a nap.”

She started in on the second pastry.

“So, what’s with the book you’re writing over here?” Ginny asked as she skimmed the page on top.

“Iss a new tastic ‘m tryin’” Hermione managed around her mouthful of sausage.

“You better be glad I grew up with Ron and I can understand when people are talking with their mouth full.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

Hermione swallowed before continuing. “You kind of inspired it actually. The more I talk about what happened at the Department of Mysteries and then with Katie the easier it is to deal with. So, I wrote it all down. That’s what I was doing this morning, and then I guess I passed out when I finished.”

“You feel asleep? Does that mean it worked?” Ginny arched her eyebrow.

“Honestly, I don’t know. But, talking was already helping, so I figured why not. I mean things really couldn’t have gotten worse.”

Ginny nodded, she tapped the stack of parchment against the bed, lining all the papers up correctly. “What are you going to do with it now?” She handed the stack to Hermione.

Hermione reached out to grab the papers, “I don’t know.” She fanned herself with the pages before setting them next to her pillow.

“Wow, two ‘I don’t know’s from Hermione Granger in one conversation. The world must be ending.” Ginny giggled. Hermione blushed and pushed at her friend. “Come on, let’s get you out of this room.”

The two girls got up from the bed and left. Hermione stared back at the stack of papers that still sat on her bed as they passed through the doorway.

 _What am I going to do with it?_ She shook her head. _Best not to dwell on it now. That’s tomorrow’s problem._

***

The cacophony of owls used to bring Hermione joy, now it only reminded her of what she no longer had. The bittersweet memories of what could have been. She was done lying to herself.

She missed Fred.

She missed reading his letters. She missed the way he distracted her from the stress of her sixth year. She missed the way he would poke fun at her. She missed the way he let her poke back.

She even missed his ghastly handwriting.

But, as much as Hermione missed him, she wasn’t ready to talk to him yet.

That didn’t stop her from longing that one of the birds flying overhead to swoop down in front of her and drop off a letter. She tentatively watched the owls deliver their missives. The sea of brown feathers rolled on and on.

Her eye spotted a speck of white.

_It’s not a big deal, there are plenty of white birds in the owlery._

A flash of gold.

It was Whoudini. The barn owl made a grand show of spiraling down and landed on Hermione’s shoulder. She patiently held her leg out for Hermione to grab the letter.

She studied the envelope before opening it.

_No gold seal, ‘To Hermione’. Hmm, not Panda? Oh, the handwriting is much too neat, this isn’t from Fred. Whoudini must have brought it to Fleur after all._

Hermione grabbed some kippers off a tray in front of her and passed them to the bird as a reward for her long flight to wherever it was Fleur was staying these days. Whoudini nuzzled her hand and took off for her much-needed rest.

Her suspicions were confirmed as she opened the letter and poured over the beautiful script that it contained.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Thank you for sharing with me your struggled. I know that could not have been simple to do. You have been through much this year. How you are still able to walk around the school, I do not know._

_You are more brave and more strong than you know._

_I am glad that things are getting better with you and your parents. I remember that my parents were not very excited when I was chosen to be in the Tournament, and even worse when they had to bring Gabrielle._

_But they were there for me when I needed them, and I hope that your parents are being able to help you too._

_After the maze, I was not myself. I will not say the things I saw, and then that man attacked me. I was feeling like you are. I did not want my sister to worry about me, so I hid things. This did not help._

_Soon, my mother found me crying in the hallway and I told her everything. It got easier after that. Bill has also helped me. It is as if the more I tell it, the easier it becomes._

_After I told Bill about it all, he gave me some advice: you can be a victim, or you can be victorious._

_We are not what has happened to us. You are so much more than what you have suffered. I hope that telling me what you have been through has made it easier._

_Now, on to your boy troubles!_

_I am so very happy that you have normal teenage problems. I have been waiting years to act as big sister, but Gabrielle is so much younger._

_Shame on Harry and Ron!_

_You are their friend, and they should listen to you. Even if they do not agree with you, they should still respect you enough to listen._

Hermione wanted to pump her fists in victory but kept reading.

_How can they not see why that book upsets you? Have you not shared with them how you are feeling?_

Her earlier joy was now gone.

_I know that you are worried about them, but if they are truly your friends, then they will stick by you and want to help. You cannot protect Harry from everything. Especially if it keeps hurting you._

Deep down, Hermione knew she agreed. There had just never been a good time to tell him all she was going through.

_Now, about Ron. He can be a sweet boy, but he’s also not the best when it comes to girls. You are one of the only girls he interacts with, it sounds like he was acting weird because he did have a little affection for you. You called it a ‘crush’?_

_It sounds like you were a little jealous. Ron is your friend, and it is normal to be worried that someone is going to take him away from you._

_If there is a girl who is interested in him, I know it can make you feel strange, but he also deserves to be happy. This girl should never have said those mean things about you though._

_Aside from jealousy, it sounds like you are also envious of Ron. This girl and him are in the same place. They don’t have to write letters to the person they crush like you do._

Hermione chuckled at Fleur’s misuse of the word.

_Now, this mystery boy. It was not Viktor was it? I shall be very cross with him if he has treated you this way!_

_He sounded like such a good thing for you at the beginning. He was joking and making you laugh, and that helps so much._

_But I think I know what happened between you two in his last letter: your mystery boy crushes you too!_

Hermione’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. She scrambled to grab all of her things from the table and raced out of the Great Hall. She needed somewhere private to read the rest of this letter. She ducked behind a statue and continued.

_You talked so much about Ron and his new girl, you probably made him feel like you crush Ron. Your poor mystery boy doesn’t know how to tell you his feelings and he panicked when you talked about another boy._

_Now, the other part that upset you so much. I would give him the benefit of doubt and say he was only teasing; you know, how Bill’s brothers like to tease._

Hermione’s heart thudded in her chest at the mention of the twins. _Did Fleur know?_ She grabbed the letter tighter and kept reading.

_Anyone with eyes can see that you are fully devoted to Harry and Ron. There is nothing you would not do to keep them safe._

_I hope things work out for the better, and please write to me and let me know how things go!_

_Fleur Delacour (soon to be Weasley!)_

Hermione fell back against the statue and slid down to the floor. Her mind buzzed with all the questions that Fleur’s letter brought. _Does Fred like me back? Was he jealous because I kept bringing up Ron? Was he really just teasing me?_

Hope clawed its way up from the cabinet that she kept it locked in. It had almost bubbled to the surface when doubt slashed it to pieces.

_No, Fleur doesn’t know what she’s talking about._

She pushed up off the floor. She needed time to think. Hermione started walking down the corridor. She kept going, up the stairs, through the twists of the castle. Too much was going on inside her head. She needed someplace quiet.

She kept walking through the cold stone corridors until she found herself in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. She mumbled the password and climbed inside. The Common Room was starting to come to life on this lazy Sunday.

There was a game of Exploding Snap going on in the corner. Study groups had formed at the tables. Quills were scratching across parchment to finish the essays that were, no doubt, due tomorrow. Ginny and Dean were cuddled up on one of the couches by the fireplace.

Hermione waved but continued up the stairs to her dorm. She flung herself onto her bed. She stared up at the ceiling lost in thought. Crookshanks came and leapt onto her stomach. Hermione reached down and scratched the brooding ball of fur.

“Mummy’s having a wuff day,” she said in baby talk. “I don’t know what to think anymore. Fleur’s letter helped, but I don’t think she’s right about You-Know-Who,” she giggled absent mindedly. “No not that You-Know-Who. But she was right about all the other stuff.

“I can be a victim, or I can be victorious.” Hermione sat up, Crookshanks meowed indignantly at having been pushed off his comfy spot. She looked over onto her bedside table, where the stack of parchment sat.

She got off the bed and grabbed the stack. She walked over to the windowsill where the empty inkwell sat. Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket and cast a silent spell. Blue flames erupted inside the little, stained jar.

Hermione looked down at the papers.

_Victim…_

She looked at the flames.

_Or victorious._

She took the first page off the stack. Hermione closed her eyes as she relived what was written on the page. She took it in her hand and rolled it up tightly.

“I’m not the same person I was when this happened to me,” she held the rolled-up parchment in her hand. “I am stronger.”

She dropped one end of the paper into the jar and watched as the flames licked up the sides of it. Her nose itched as smoke filled the small area. She reached out and opened the window.

Hermione grabbed the next sheet off the stack and rolled it up like the first. She added it to the fire when she could no longer see anything left of the other paper.

“I’m still here.”

She rolled up another paper.

“I’m still fighting.”

She added it to the fire.

“I can do this.”

As the stack in front of her grew smaller, the pile of ash in the jar grew taller. Soon there was no paper left to burn. Hermione extinguished the flames with a swish of her wand. She down at the jar.

She reached out and grabbed it. The glass was cool to the touch, such was the nature of the flames she conjured. She dipped her pinky into the ashes, and pulled it back out, black, and gritty.

Hermione rubbed her dirty finger against the palm of her other hand. It left a black streak, but the more she rubbed, the stain on both her hands faded. The story was still part of her, but just like the ashes, it wasn’t as prominent anymore. It would keep fading, until one day it would be just a blip on the radar of her life.

She let out a shaky exhale.

She leaned back against the windowsill; head turned to stare out into the expanse in front of her. A warm tear slid down her cheek. She didn’t reach up to wipe it away, instead she felt it carve its way across her face and drip down onto her shirt.

 _Peace,_ she closed her eyes and smiled. _So, this is what it feels like._

Hermione sat on the windowsill with her eyes closed until the November chill got the best of her. She shivered and sat up, opening her eyes. The clouds covered the sky, in the distance, a brown speck stood out against the grayish back drop.

She squinted to make it out.

_Is that an owl?_

The brown dot grew bigger as she sat on the window and watched it fly towards the school. It was definitely an owl. She decided to keep the window open to give the bird easier access to whomever it was that the letter was going to.

Hermione watched the bird with envy. Someone was getting a letter. She hoped it was good news. She felt the pit in her stomach grow. The bird was certainly not Whoudini, the letter it was carrying wouldn’t be from Fred.

The owl was almost to the window now, Hermione glanced to make sure the door was open so the bird could deliver the letter to whichever Gryffindor was waiting for it in the Common Room. The brown bird slowed as it reached the window. It dropped the letter onto Hermione’s lap and flew away without stopping.

Hermione looked down at the envelope and blink once, twice, three times before her arm reached down to pick it up.

_For me? Who’s it from?_

She turned the letter over to open it. There was a gold WWW seal on the back.

Hermione fell off the window ledge and onto the floor next to her bed. She jumped up and slammed the window closed. Her fingers were shaking as she fumbled with the latch.

The letter was wadded in her clenched fist by the time she got the window sealed. She gingerly sat down on her bed. Both hands working frantically to smooth out the envelope. One finger gently slipped under the lip and popped the seal open.

Hermione pulled out the now crumpled letter and unfolded it. She could immediately read every word on the page; the handwriting was crisp, almost as if it had been printed rather than written.

Fred had not written this letter.

Her mind raced trying to figure out who would have written her but still had access to the WWW shop. Her eyes widened when she figured it out.

_GEORGE? Why is he writing me?_

She started at the beginning of the letter.

_Hermione,_

_Please forgive my idiot brother for whatever it is that he’s done that’s made you so upset with him._

“As if I’d forgive Ron so easily…”

_He hasn’t stopped pouting for the two weeks since you last wrote to him._

“What does he mean since I last wrote to him? I haven’t—FUCK! He means Fred!”

_He’s been utterly useless since then. His last idea for a new product was a quill that corrects your grammar while writing. I know that probably sounds like an amazing idea to a swot like you, BUT WE ALREADY SELL THOSE!_

_You’ve absolutely ruined him!_

_Ginny sent him a howler the moment you burned his last letter over breakfast. He knows he screwed up, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. She’s been trying to coach him on an apology, but he’s convinced that nothing he says will ever fix it._

_Either forgive him or help me put him out of his misery._

_Fucking hell woman…_

_George_

Hermione put the letter down.

_Ginny?_

She read the letter again.

_Ginny…_

She ripped it in half.

“GINNY!” she screamed and bolted down the stairs to the Common Room. Hermione stood in front of Ginny and Dean on the couch by the fireplace, one half of the letter in each hand.

She threw both parts of the letters at Ginny. Hermione watched as the redhead read the letter.

“You. Talk. Now.” Hermione said through gritted teeth.

“Dean, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She kissed her boyfriend on the cheek and pulled Hermione by the wrist up to the fifth-year girls’ dorm.

Hermione was all but foaming at the mouth by the time Ginny shoved her down onto the bed. Ginny paced in front on her, wringing her hands, she looked pleadingly at Hermione.

“I can explain.”

“You’d fucking better.”

“If I tell you what happened, you have to promise not to be mad at me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Okay, I can live with that, but you have to promise not to hex me.”

“Can’t promise that either.”

Ginny huffed. “Just let me tell you what happened, and then if you’re still mad you can do whatever you want.”

Hermione thought on that one for a moment. She blew a frustrated breath through her still clenched teeth. “Fine.”

“Fred’s kinda had a thing for you for a while. I wasn’t going to do anything about it, but when I saw the way he looked at you when we stopped by the shop over the summer, I decided to help him out a little.”

Hermione’s parents would be livid if they could hear her grinding her teeth together now.

“I didn’t do anything at first, but when we got to school, I figured you could use a little distraction. I sent him an owl a few days before your birthday. You actually walked in on my sending it. That’s why Pig brought you his present.

“All I did was give him a little nudge to do something. Then that morning when I walked in on you passed out drunk, I was worried about you, so I gave you a project. I told you to write Fred back.

“I started to recognize the bird dropping off letters to you, so when I saw it drop off the red envelope and you ran out of the Great Hall and I found you in the bathroom crying and I was ready to kill him. But then you let me read the letter and I saw it was just another of his stupid pranks.

“As soon as I left you, I ran to the owlery and sent Pig off with a nasty letter to Fred. I told him that he wasn’t allowed to send you any more letters that I hadn’t approved of yet.”

Sparks crackled across Hermione’s fingertips. If Ginny noticed them, she didn’t let it show.

“He would Floo the Common Room at night before he sent off his letter. I didn’t want him to screw up again and upset you. You were barely hanging on and I didn’t want him to push you over the edge.

“Things were going good. You were coming out of your shell more, you genuinely looked excited for breakfast every morning. He never told me what you wrote in your letters, but I could piece it together from what he was saying in his.”

Ginny paused in her pacing and looked at Hermione.

“I never told him about your problems. I knew that was something that you had to decide for yourself about, and I wasn’t going to take that away from you. Anyway—” she started pacing again, “—we got into a routine where he’d call me and read me his response and I’d make sure he wasn’t crossing the line, but I never told him what to say.

“Then Harry started the schedule more Quidditch practices at night and so I missed Fred’s last Floo. I woke up super early the next day and ran down to the common room before breakfast to Floo him. He told me he’d already sent the letter, but he told me what he’d said.

“I’m actually pretty sure you walked in on the end of that. I called him an idiot and then walked down to breakfast with all of you. When I saw you burn the letter in the Great Hall, I knew he fucked up big time.

“As soon as you stormed out, I sent him a howler telling him to never write you again. I told him that if you ever wrote him back it’d be a miracle. I guess he’s been having a pity party ever since.”

Ginny was losing steam now that she’d reached the end of her story. She fell to her knees in front of Hermione.

“I understand if you never want to speak to me again, or any of the Weasleys for that matter. It was wrong of me to monitor your communications like that, but I didn’t want you to get hurt, and he’s my brother, I wanted to help him out too.”

Hermione closed her eyes; she couldn’t look at Ginny right now.

“Ginny, thank you for letting me know about this. Please don’t ever do something like this again.” She counted to ten before continuing. “I’m upset, but I don’t hate you. I might not be able to speak to you for a while after this.”

“I understand.”

Hermione stood up. She placed one hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “Tell me one thing though.”

“Anything.”

“How long has Fred liked me?”

Ginny was quiet for a moment, then spoke in an almost whisper. “At least since you left your ski trip to come visit our dad at St. Mungo’s last year.”

Hermione felt like she’d been kicked in the chest. _A year? He’s been pining over me for almost a year and he never said anything!_

The room was starting to spin. She needed to get out of here.

“We’ll talk more about this later,” she blurted out before running from the room.

Her heart was thudding in her chest as she ran up the stairs to her own bed. She yanked shut the curtains and buried her face in her pillow. Tears were pouring from her eyes, soaking into the cotton and feathers, but she didn’t care.

She’d been through too much today.

Fleur’s letter.

Burning the account from the Department of Mysteries.

George’s letter.

Ginny’s confession.

Her head was spinning. All her emotions were rattling in their glass jars, clanking against one another. They were all vying for attention, but one was outshining the others and refused to be ignored.

Joy.

Fred liked her back. She hadn’t been imagining it. She wasn’t being some silly, love struck schoolgirl. She screamed into her pillow in victory.

She laid there until her eyes had dried. Her heart had resumed its usual tempo. The vials inside her head had gone silent once more.

Hermione sat up and wiped away the last traces of her tears from her face. She opened the bed curtains and stood on shaky legs. She grabbed her school bag and fished out what she needed.

Her special quill, and a stack of parchment.

She had a letter to write, and it was long overdue. It was going to be a long one. She scratched the quill across the page.

_Dear Fred…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading another chapter!  
> Yes, Hermione is finally getting through it (I know y'all were struggling as much as she was)
> 
> Oh! I also found the perfect representation of [Whoudini](https://mightbewriting.tumblr.com/post/643960998162759680/acuteangleaziraphale-vorkm-barn-owl-extreme)
> 
> Also, you guys can hit me up on my [tumblr](https://teacher-with-bad-handwriting.tumblr.com/)


End file.
